


The Demon King's Favorite Holiday

by WrestlersOwnMyHeart



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Romance, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24430693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrestlersOwnMyHeart/pseuds/WrestlersOwnMyHeart
Summary: Overall Summary:It's Thanksgiving—the start of your favorite time of year. Now a successful author, you love to pay it forward and give back in thanks for all the possessions and blessings you've accumulated over recent years. You know what it is to be poor and hungry, so on Thanksgiving day when you come across a homeless man you do everything in your power to help him.However he's not exactly what he led you to believe he is. He's more. Much more. In truth, he has everything he could ever desire. With the exception of one thing... Love.You.Part 1 Summary: You reflect back on last year's chaotic Thanksgiving holiday as you prepare meals for the homeless.
Relationships: Finn Balor | Prince Devitt/Original Female Character(s), Finn Balor | Prince Devitt/Reader





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.  
> Story Content & Trigger Warnings: Some violence, blood and some fluff

You sighed softly as you bagged up the overwhelmingly numerous sandwiches you'd made up for the Thanksgiving holiday. It was tradition for you every year to make a ton of hot turkey sandwiches and sack them up with bags of potato chips and bottled water to hand out to the homeless around the city on Thanksgiving night. Sure, you could always volunteer at a soup kitchen, or make a huge monetary donation to the salvation army or something similar—and you did those things as well, but that just wasn't your favorite way of giving. You enjoyed doing something more personal—more hands on. You were asked so many times, " _How did you get to be so passionate about aiding the less fortunate_?" Your answer surely always seemed mundane and repetitive, but it was nevertheless true and genuine:

You could empathize.

You knew what it was like to be poor and hungry. Thankfully, you'd never had to be without a roof over your head. But as a child, teenager, and even through some of your adult years you'd gone to bed with an empty belly. Sometimes, you'd lie awake at night thinking up stories in your head to get your mind off the rumbling of your stomach until you could fall asleep. Which was how you came to love story-telling.

Now, as a successful author with a writing career you'd worked yourself to death to obtain, you had everything you needed and pretty much anything you wanted. You were blessed. And you were thankful. And what better way to show your gratitude than to give back? You paid it forward any time there was an opportunity, but it always seemed so much more special around holiday time. It was your favorite time of the year, as well as your favorite time to help others and lift their spirits if even for only a few minutes.

You sighed again as you placed another wrapped sandwich in a bag with shaking hands. "Except now... I'm scared," you uttered softly. _And alone_ , you added to yourself; sadness changing your mood from bad to worse. Then you rolled your eyes at yourself. "Get over it. He changed his mind. That's all there is to it." You'd have thought the past Thanksgiving was simply a dream, it had been so crazy. But, you looked down at the claddagh ring that absolutely would _not_ come off your left ring finger. It had not been there on Thanksgiving night, but you woke up the next morning to find it glinting in the sunlight.

It wasn't a dream, that much you knew. That night had been frightening—at first. Then it was... romantic. And then it—he—was gone. And you hadn't been the same since.

Deciding you needed a short break from packing up the food, you left the kitchen and entered your den. After crossing the room to your favorite puffy armchair, you curled up in it and reflected back on the past Thanksgiving night. The night that had changed your life as you knew it—frightened you and made you question your sanity. But it also left you feeling unbalanced. You'd felt love—briefly. Then it was snatched away from you and left you a depressed shell of yourself. Your past year had been one hell of an emotional roller coaster.

_You'd just about finished up handing out your home-made turkey sandwiches; you only had a couple left in your huge duffle bag. You smiled, thinking back on the people you were able to converse with and offer a few moments of companionship as you gave them a meal for the holiday._

_You were only a few blocks away from your elegant townhouse when you spotted a feeble elderly woman hunched over—seemingly in pain and trying to make her way down the street._

_"Hello," you called out to her. "Ma'am, are you okay?" You hurried up to the skinny old woman and lightly touched her bony back with your hand. "Let me help you." You bent down a little so you could see her face. Blood streamed from her temple and dripped down her cheek. "Oh, no," you gasped, "What happened to you? Let me call you an ambulance." You fumbled in your coat pocket for your cell phone only to have it batted from your hand immediately. You cried out from the force of the blow and took a step back. Something was far from right._

_"Y'r sweet, kind li'l heart makes d'is so easy," a low, seductive female voice proclaimed, thick with an Irish accent. It seemed to come from the little old lady. "Like stealin' candy from a babe."_

_"Ex-excuse me," you stammered slightly, beginning to feel your fight or flight response kicking into high gear._

_"Why Bálor wants_ you _—a mere mortal li'l human... I'll never know. Especially when 'ee could have an_ immortal _like me." She remained stooped over as she spoke, which you found quite unnerving._

_"Wh-what?" Your voice cracked slightly as you backed up another couple of steps. "I d-don't know what you-" You swallowed hard, fighting the nausea churning around in your stomach. "What you're talking a-about."_

Bálor _, you thought._ What's a Bálor? She claims to be immortal... Has she lost her mind?

_Slowly the woman rose to stand. She reached her full height and towered over you. The gleaming silver hair that adorned her head seemed to darken, and the wrinkles on her face began fading. Within seconds, a stunning young woman with long hair, black as pitch stood before you. She was dressed in a rather provocative red dress with a plunging neckline down to her waist and a slit in the skirt that went all the way up to her hip._

_It was then that you began wondering if it was your own mind that was lost. An injured frail old woman had just transformed into a young woman before your very eyes! Had it been Halloween, you'd have thought it was just some elaborate prank._

But it's not freaking Halloween, _you thought, dropping your duffle bag and preparing to flee._ It's Thanksgiving!

_Having seen enough, you turned and ran the other direction; bolting down the street as tears burned your eyes. You had no idea where you were going. You only knew you had to get away! A sob burst past your lips as you ran. You had no idea how long you'd been running when you found yourself roaming through a bedraggled looking neighborhood—what many people would refer to as 'the wrong side of the tracks'._

_"I don't care where I am," you whispered to yourself, swiping at your tears. "As long as I'm away from her!"_

_Suddenly exhausted, you walked to the side of the deserted street and sat down on a curb, trying to catch your breath. You were in very good shape, but you realized you must've ran two miles at least! You rubbed your temples trying to ease away the tension headache that developed behind your eyes._

I need to find a phone and call a cab, _you thought, resting your head against your knees._ I'd never make it home by foot as tired as I am now. _You stood to your feet and took in your surroundings, trying to figure out the best direction to move in when you heard a footstep nearby. Spinning around, you caught sight of a man's silhouette. The moonlight cast shadows all around him and prevented you from making out his features. He appeared to be fairly tall, trim, and wearing a dark suit along with a long black coat belted at his waist._

_Instinctively, you took a step back just as he spoke._

_"Are ya alright, lass?"_

_His voice was melodic—soothing, and held a thick Irish accent just like the woman who'd frightened you so terribly. And he seemed a little too good to be true; happening up at just the right moment._

It could be that... that woman again—disguised, _you thought, stumbling back a step._ " _Fool me once, shame on you_ ," _you uttered softly, almost as if it was some incantation that would protect you_. " _Fool me twice_..."

_You didn't stick around long enough to finish the expression, instead you turned and bolted down the street._

"Please, don't run from me, _mo banríon._ "

_The soft voice vibrated gently through your head. "Stop it," you cried out loud, covering your ears with your hands even though his voice wasn't being picked up by your ears. It was inside your head._

"I can't _..._ I won't..."

 _"Stop!_ Please _!"_

_Quickly, you flung yourself around a corner and sprinted down a dark alley. Maybe not the wisest of choices, but it certainly provided some potential hiding places. You dove behind a dumpster and crouched down, hoping he—or she—wouldn't spot you. You sat there silently, shaking and scared out of your mind when a sudden icy chill shuddered through your body. Cold breath brushed over the back of your neck just as a hand with freezing skin clamped tightly over your mouth._

_"I_ do _love a good game of hide-an'-seek—even d'ough 'tis not remotely a challenge f'r me."_

_You tried to scream; attempted to throw your elbows back into your attacker, but she already held you in a vice-like grip, pinning your arms to your body._

_"I normally only drink a man's blood, but I'd love to help myself to y'rs—ya smell delicious. But, unfortunately, I'm in a wee bit of a hurry seein' as Bálor is close by." Your coat was torn away from your body and you struggled some more as you tried to make sense of her words. Then there was a sharp jab to your chest. You felt a slight pricking and a lot of pressure built up within your lungs, making it difficult to breath. Your head went light and you felt as if you were floating. The woman's arms released you and you clung to the dumpster so as to stay standing. Wet warmth ran down your chest and stomach. The wind was knocked from you then as you were suddenly slammed up against the brick wall behind you._

_"Oh, y'r blood... The smell is s' rich." The woman hissed in your ear, now in front of you and trapping you against the wall. "Alas, I canna resist a taste..."_

_"No..." You barely managed to croak out. Wh-what...a-are you?"_

_The beautiful woman grinned, fangs reaching down to her chin. She was no longer beautiful. And it hit you then—one moment of clarity within your muddled mind. Her beauty was merely an illusion. An illusion used to lure and entice her victims into a false sense of security._

_"I'm Dearg-due." She rattled off some foreign term as if you knew what it meant. Then she scoffed at you with obvious disdain. "I'm a vampire, you imbecilic girl." She latched onto your hand and gripped it tightly. "And I am hungry..."_

_You tried to scream, but the protest came out a pathetic wheezed whimper. Your resistance went ignored as the creature lifted your arm upward to her mouth and sank her teeth into your wrist. Puzzled that you heard your own flesh tear but didn't feel much pain as her teeth pierced your skin, you instantly grew more dizzy. The vampire moaned in delight as your blood flowed freely into her mouth._

_"S-someone... H-help me..." you whispered shakily, pushing at her face, but she simply dug her scarlet nails into your arm and pulled you closer—drank more greedily. "Please..." You grew cold all over as your blood left your body._

" _SCAOIL MO BANRÍON_!"

_The strange Irishman's voice roared out in the alley, and in the next instant the creature was ripped away from you. Once again, you clung to the dumpster to gain your equilibrium, tears streaming down your face. "I've gone crazy," you panted out. Your head was down as you rested it against the hard metal of the huge garbage receptacle, but you could clearly hear the sound of tearing flesh and spraying blood. Amidst the horrific sounds, you also heard the evil woman screeching in agony, until her screams finally died down to nothing._

_With a sob, you lifted your head and wearily eyed the man who'd—you hoped—just saved your life. You could see him better now. He was tall—taller than_ you, _by far. His dark hair was short, cropped close to his head. A mustache and neatly trimmed beard adorned his insanely handsome face and framed a sensuous mouth with slightly full lips. His light skin was flawless and he had the bluest of eyes that seemed to light up the alley._

_He was absolutely breathtaking._

" _Are ya all right, agra_?"

_His voice was soft—tender and caring. Realizing you had little left to lose, you decided to put what little trust you had left, in him. Shakily, you moved away from the dumpster, and showed him your wrist._

_"I t-think so... Other than this," you said softly, motioning to your wrist. "She... She b-bit me... and hit me in the chest... or something... But I think I'm okay now-" You stopped as you noticed his intense blue gaze trained on your chest. Something resembling fear crossed his face. Perplexed, you looked down at yourself and saw a massive red stain covering the front of your cream-colored cashmere sweater._

_A dagger protruded from your heart._

_"Oh," you gasped softly. "She stabbed... I'm..." You couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence as your brain clouded over. Blankly, you reached up and pulled the knife from your heart. The stab of pain that roared through your chest buckled your knees. As if in slow motion, the dagger slipped from your hand, and you felt yourself falling; a soft whimper passing your lips as you went down._

_Strong arms went around you before you could hit the pavement, and eased you to the ground so you were lying down._

_"Nay," the man uttered in earnest, ripping your sweater open at the front. "_ **Nay!** _You won't die."_

_"Hel-help... me, pl-please..."_

_"I will, love," he said, gently checking your wounds. He cursed loudly when he saw how much blood was pooling underneath you. "Why didn't ya stay wit' me? I would've never allowed her t' touch ya. Ya wouldda been safe, lass." His soft words seemed scolding, but his tone was a combination of regret, fear, and self-loathing._

_You watched through blurring vision as he hurriedly pulled off his coat and suit jacket, then rolled up one of the sleeves of his black dress shirt. "I w-was... scared..." you managed to whisper to him._

_He nodded in understanding, realizing that he'd frightened you as badly as the vampire had. He held his fingers over the harsh bite at your wrist and closed his eyes, murmuring something in another language. Instantly you felt the pain in your limb begin to dissipate._

_"Wh-what... H-how'd you... do that...?" you asked, your voice wavering slightly. "Who... a-are you?"_

_"Irish healing magic, m' love," he replied gently. "I'm Bálor. An' d'at's all ya need t' know right now."_

_"_ You're _Bálor?" Your voice grew weaker as more blood flowed from your rapid-beating heart._

_With a nod, he lifted his arm to his mouth and bit into the meaty flesh of his forearm without so much as a flinch. You cried out softly, horrified by what you were seeing._

_"Shhh," he reassured you, as he held his forearm over your chest wound. "Ye'll be fine, love. I'm goin' t' take care o' ya."_

_His blood dripped into your wound and you tried to reach up and move his arm away. "Blood type..." Was all you had the strength to utter._

_"Ya don't need t' worry 'bout d'at,_ _muirnīn_ _._ _Ye'll find d'at my blood is a wee bit special in your case." He shook his head almost regretfully. "I didn't want t' have t' do d'is so soon. The bonding shouldn't happen yet. But I have to. Ye've lost too much blood. Ye'll die if I don't."_

_The pain in your chest began to dispel as Bálor again closed his eyes and muttered in the other language. Warmth tingled at the tips of your fingers and toes and then began moving up your legs and arms. You whimpered softly at the reassuring heat._

_"Yer wound is closin' up quickly," Bálor whispered near your ear. "Do ya feel d'a warmth?"_

_You nodded, still weak but less frightened._

_"My blood is minglin' wit' yers. We're bonded now. Da heat is just y'r body's way of adaptin' t' the change. Ye'll feel sleepy soon. Don't be afraid."_

_Slowly, as if testing for your reaction, his hand traveled up your stomach and lightly traced where your wound had been. An electric-like current made you jolt at his touch and shuddered through your body. You whimpered softly, arching your back and all but begging for more of his touch._

_"Y'r wound is gone," Bálor mumbled. His head bent down and his soft, wet lips brushed over the healed area. The electric sensation zapped you hard this time and your heart felt as if it was sprouting goosebumps as he kissed your chest._

_"Who are you," you asked again. "_ What _are you?"_

_"I'm the Demon King, Bálor," he replied. "You're my future queen. I've been watching over you all your life to make sure you were safe. Though I failed at my job this night."_

_He gave a sudden wave of his hand and the next thing you knew, you were both in a soft, huge four-poster bed. Curtains of fire surrounded it, making yours and Bálor's skin glow and flicker with the dancing flames. Red satin sheets surrounded you, brushing against the bared skin of your torso. Bálor knelt beside you on the bed and with a swish of his wrist, a bowl of water and a washcloth appeared in his hands and he began cleaning the blood off of you._

_The bonding, as he put it, was affecting you strongly. You were feeling love for a man that you'd never met till tonight. A strong love. You'd die to save him from anything that dared to harm him. And you just knew that he'd do the same for you._

_Your consciousness fell away gradually then, bit by bit. You were only vaguely aware of the sensation of Bálor finishing his cleaning of your skin, gently. Then you were being carried, your limbs hanging limply and useless before you were laid on another bed. It felt familiar to you._ My bed, _you realized, as you grew sleepier._

_"Is breá liom tú. Soon, I'll come back for you." You heard Bálor's voice rustle softly at your ear. You felt something slip onto your left ring finger, and then with a slight smile, you welcomed sleep. Blackness claimed you, and you felt a whisper of warm lips brush over your cheek._

You came back to yourself; back from the sweet reverie of that night. You found tears streaming down your face and didn't even bother to wipe them away. Why bother? There'd be many more to replace them. You bit back a sob as you gazed down at the claddagh ring on your left hand. You'd woken up the morning after Thanksgiving with it on your ring finger, and it absolutely would not come off. And ever since, you'd felt so alone. You loved and missed a man you didn't even know. How was that possible?

You'd thought that night was a dream, and you still wondered to be honest. You felt as if you were going crazy. You had the most amazing night of your life—a night full of evil and good; magic, love. It was just insanely unrealistic. Yet you woke up nearly half naked, with the ring on your hand and you were wrapped in a red satin bed sheet; the clean smell of Bálor'scologne clinging to your skin.

 _It had to be real_ , you thought, looking at the ring again. More tears trickled from your eyes. "But if it was, he lied to me. He never came back for me." You curled up further in the arm chair and buried your face against your knees, sobbing.

There'd not been a day pass since that night that you'd not wept in your grief. The first night or two after Bálor had returned you to your bed, you'd lain awake; both frightened of what you'd gone through with the vampire who'd tried to kill you, and sad at the loss of Bálor. After a few minutes of the heart-wrenching sobs racking through your body, you could've sworn you felt Bálor's arms close around you. But no one was in the bed with you. Nonetheless, the feeling of security and love blanketed you and helped you to sleep. But you didn't feel it again after that. And your hours of sleep each night dwindled.

"He must've changed his mind about me," you thought out loud, rising from the chair. You went down the hall and headed back into the kitchen. Picking up your cell phone, you dialed the new number in your contact's list intent on canceling the blind date you'd been pushed into for the next day. Your agent had thought it was a bright idea to set you up on a date with one of his newest authors.

"You never get out anymore, Y/N," he'd said. "And you haven't written a word in almost a year. You've not been the same since last Thanksgiving. I don't know what happened, but this isn't healthy—you need to get out and actually _live_ your life. This guy is perfect for you. You both have a lot in common." At your silence, he'd added, "If you won't do this for yourself, then please, do it for me."

The guilt trip was well-played because you wound up agreeing.

Except now, you just flat didn't feel any desire to do anything but lay up in your bed and cry.

You were jarred from your thoughts when the familiar male voice answered. You cleared your throat and tried to sound as if you'd not been crying your heart out only minutes before.

"Hi. It's Y/N. Listen... I'm really sorry, but I'm afraid I won't be able to follow through with our date tomorrow night."

" _Well, that's really disappointing, Y/N, but it's okay. Are you all right_? _You sound a little sick_."

You decided to go with that. It was as good an excuse as any.

"Yes, I'm okay. But I _am_ sick, actually. I seem to have caught a bad cold. Maybe we could take a rain check?"

" _Of course_! _Take care of yourself, and we'll go on our date when you feel better_."

You smiled slightly. "Thanks so much for understanding, Kenny. I'll talk to you soon."

With that, you hung up the phone, and finished preparing the meals you'd be handing out a little later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your world crashed down around you when Bálor left you behind. When he returns for you, will you be able to forgive him? Or will a certain one-winged angel manage to woo you? And is that one-winged angel truly in love with you? Or are you nothing more than a pawn in his game of revenge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE, ROH, or NJPW. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
> 
> Story Content & Trigger Warnings: Some violence, some fluff

The duffle bag slung over your shoulder had grown much lighter over the past couple of hours. You glanced inside and saw you were down to your last three sandwiches, chips, and waters—besides the .38 special revolver tucked away in the bag as well.

You'd gotten the gun immediately after your attack last Thanksgiving. Well, you'd _bought_ the gun. There was of course the background check and all the necessary paperwork you had to wait through first. But it was worth it. You felt much safer now, having it for protection.

You hurried along the street and quickly spotted a group of three homeless women huddled together around a bonfire, trying to keep warm. As you hurried over to them, you came to realize that they were apparently a small family. There was an elderly woman—who must've been the grandmother, a woman that was maybe in her late thirties and pregnant, and the third female was actually a young girl who was a spitting image of the pregnant woman in the small group.

 _My God,_ you thought. _She can't be more than nine, and living on the street_!

"Excuse me," you said softly, not wanting to frighten them. You offered them a soft smile. "I'd like to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, and provide you a meal if that's okay?"

The small group of females nodded eagerly and thanked you over and over as you handed over the last of the food. You noticed then that the girl was without a coat. Immediately, you sat your bag down and shrugged out of your own coat. "Here, sweetheart," you said softly, draping the thick leather over her back as she dug into her sandwich. "This might be a little bit big on you, but it will help keep you warm."

"I tried to give her mine, but she wouldn't hear of it," the pregnant woman said instantly, flushing with embarrassment.

"You're pregnant, Mommy," the girl admonished. "And Gram is sick." The girl looked up at you with sad, hopeless brown eyes. "They've both tried to make me take their coats, but I can't take them. They need them worse than I do."

You fought the sting of tears as you stroked your hand over her blonde hair. "Well, now you each have a coat. So you don't have to worry about sharing. What's your name, honey?"

"Ana," she said softly, biting into the sandwich again.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl," you smiled softly. "My name is, Y/N. And I'd like to help you all a little more, if that's okay." You pulled out a flyer to a homeless shelter across town. "This is a fairly new women's shelter that a friend of mine runs. Her name is Rebecca. The shelter is not known of by many people right now because it's so new. Rebecca will help you and get you whatever you need to help get you on your feet again. I know it's way across town, so I also want to give you the money for a cab to get there." You paused a moment, wishing you could just wave a magic wand and fix these people's lives for them. You swallowed hard and dug into your wallet for some cash.

"I don't think we can accept-" The mother started, but you softly cut her off.

"Please, let me," you said, and before you realized it, a tear fell down your cheek. That was happening a lot lately. "I wish I could help _everyone_. But it's impossible—there's so many. In this city alone, let alone the whole world. I _can't_ help everyone. But I can help _you_. Please, let me. For your mother. For your daughter and unborn child. _Please_ , accept it."

The woman's lip trembled as she nodded. "How can I ever thank you— _repay_ you?"

You smiled through your tears and shook your head, "Accepting my help is thanks enough, believe me. And I don't want it repaid. That would make it meaningless." Not giving her a chance to change her mind, you turned and flagged a cab to drive them to a shelter. "Be sure and tell Rebecca that Y/N sent you. And if she needs me to verify it, have her call me, okay?" They nodded, and eagerly climbed into the taxi.

Seconds later, the small family was huddled in the cab as it drove away and you took some deep breaths to fight off the tears that threatened to pour from your eyes.

"Ma'am, could I trouble you for a couple of dollars?"

Not realizing anyone else was nearby, you spun around to face a man with shaggy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. His clothing was a little worse for wear, but appeared to be relatively clean. You stared at him a moment, taken aback at the intensity of his gaze as he stared into your eyes. There was a tenderness there that you didn't understand.

 _I've just met him_. _Why is he looking at me like that_?

"Ma'am?"

You shook your head briefly, clearing your mind. "I'm... I'm s-sorry?"

"Could you spare a couple of bucks? The McDonald's down the street is having a sale on Big Macs."

"S-sure," you stammered, digging into your purse. "I-" You halted a moment as you clearly heard a male voice in your head.

" _Help him_ ," it whispered.

You shivered at the familiar sound in the voice. _It sounded like_ \- _No. No, Y/N_. _You're not going there. Forget it_.

" _Help him, Y/N_... _He needs you_..."

The request was firmer this time, almost desperate. And for some odd reason, you weren't frightened. All day long, you'd had fear in the back of your mind—despite your revolver. You'd opted to hand out the food in broad open daylight instead of the evening hours. You'd looked over your shoulder multiple times, and you'd also made it a point to stay away from the neighborhood you were attacked at the prior year. Just because you had a gun didn't make you invincible. You still had to use common sense.

Now, however, you just felt calm. Protected.

"You know what," you told the man with a slight smile. "I actually just gave away the last of my cash." The man's face nearly fell but lit back up when you replied, "I have a better idea. Let me put you up in a hotel room for a few nights. I can't bear the thought of someone spending Thanksgiving night out on the street with no food or anything."

"I-I d-don't know... what to say ma'am," the man spluttered, obviously taken aback.

You smiled again. "You don't have to say anything. You just have to follow me to a cab. I'll take care of the rest."

"You're an angel," he said softly, following you to the street where you began hailing for a cab.

"Oh, no, I'm not," you said, feeling your face flush. "I'm just a human being who enjoys helping other people."

Over the next hour, you had gotten the man—who'd finally introduced himself as "Steven"—settled into a superior king room at the Pearl hotel through the second of January—so he could have a temporary home for the holidays. It took a talk with the hotel's manager, and the handing over of your credit card information along with signing a form that stated you'd be held responsible for any damage to the room, as well as any lost or stolen items. But nonetheless, Steven had a room and was safe and warm for the rest of the year's holidays. You smiled as you exited the hotel and flagged another cab. You'd promised him you'd be by the next day to check on him, so you made a mental note to stop by a store beforehand and pick him up some clothes and a few other items he might need.

Once you were inside your home, went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. It had become your go-to drink ever since your sleep began dwindling. It was the only thing that'd kept you awake through each day.

Your cell phone rang and you pulled it out of your jeans pocket, groaning when you looked at the screen.

It was your agent—David.

 _Kenny must've told him about me calling off the date_ , you thought, tempted to ignore the call. But you knew he'd only keep calling if you did. So, defeated, you tapped the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

" _So, you chickened out of the date, huh_ ," David asked in way of greeting. " _What is wrong with you, Y/N_ ," he demanded. " _You've changed since last Thanksgiving, and you won't even tell me what happened_."

"Because I can't explain it," you said softly. "There's not a rational explanation for any of it."

" _Rational explanation for_ what?"

You remained silent. Literally nothing came to your mind to tell him.

" _You'd feel better if you talked about it._ "

"No, I wouldn't!" The shout tore from your lips, before you could even think of stopping it. A sob burst from you next. "I would NOT feel better! You have no clue what I'm going through, and I have no clue how to tell you about it! There's nothing left to say about it! So just freaking drop it, David, and leave me alone!"

With that you ended the call and literally hurled the phone with all your might. It hit the wall hard and clattered to the floor. Frustrated that the phone didn't shatter, or even break off so much as one little piece of plastic, you slid down the wall behind you and collapsed onto your bottom. Sobs ripped out of you as you covered your face with your hands.

"Why did he take my heart with him," you cried to yourself. _He left me nothing, and now I'm this pathetic, crying, emotionally feeble mess_! You wiped at your eyes as the endless tears continued to roll down your face. _He had no right to do this to me_!

Shakily, you rose to your feet and made your way to the guest bathroom on the main floor, still fighting off tears. You turned on the cold water at your lavatory and splashed your face with cool water, hoping to diminish the puffiness around your eyes. The doorbell rang while you were patting your face dry with a towel, and you groaned, not in the mood for company. All you wanted to do was spend the rest of the holiday in bed.

You left the bathroom and walked down the hall to the foyer, reluctantly approaching the front door. Upon opening it, you found a tall man standing on your porch—a tall man with a handsome, yet angelic face. The roots of his dark hair faded down into dirty blond curls that framed his face. His sapphire blue eyes lit up when he saw you, and then quickly darkened with concern when he took in your face.

"K-Kenny," you said softly. You flushed a bit, realizing he probably wondered how you recognized him. "David... He showed me your picture."

He nodded with a small smile, "Same here. Are you okay?"

You nodded in reply, and moved aside so he could enter. He stepped into the foyer with you and sat a picnic basket on the nearby table, then handed you a bouquet of red roses while he removed his coat, revealing a white button-down dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He promptly hung the coat on the coat tree.

"Thank you for the roses, Kenny. That's very sweet of you."

"You're welcome," he said softly. He closed the door, then picked up the basket and followed you to the kitchen as you hunted up a vase, then filled it with water.

"So..." you started, arranging the flowers in the vase. "What-"

"What brings me here," he asked for you with a chuckle as he sat the picnic basket on the island.

"Well, yeah," you said softly. "I'm sorry, I'm just not really going to be good company." _And you apparently have plans to stay a little while_. "I'm kind of going through something rough..."

"Well, I'm sure being sick over the holidays isn't easy," he said softly, leaning against the island, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

You sighed, feeling guilty about your lie. "Kenny... I'm not really sick. I mean, I _am_ , but... I'm not a _contagious_ kind of sick. Something has been... torturing me. For a long time. And it's finally taking its toll. I'm just... exhausted."

He nodded, his penetrating gaze scanning your face. "I thought it might be something like that." He motioned to the basket of food and smiled softly. "Hence, the comfort food. I brought some amazing chicken noodle soup from a little cafe I frequent. It is _guaranteed_ to make you feel better," he joked, and seemed pleased when you smiled. "I also brought their made-from-scratch dinner rolls, and a couple of large slabs of their practically _famous_ pumpkin pie."

"It sounds wonderful. However, I don't know if I can hold all of that," you chuckled. "I'm not a very big eater."

"That's okay," Kenny said, turning to your cabinets and digging out some soup bowls and plates.

"So, where-" You went silent as you watched him expertly navigate through your kitchen, getting the things he needed to set up your meal.

"'Where', what?" He glanced up at you as he began ladling soup into your bowls.

Your forehead creased in apprehension. "How did you know where to find everything in my kitchen?"

If your question caught him by surprise, he certainly didn't show it as he plated up the dinner rolls.

"Cooking is my favorite pass time, besides writing. Finding my way through a kitchen just sort of comes naturally," he chuckled.

"You like to cook," you asked. "So are you the "little cafe" you mentioned," you asked, motioning to the food he was preparing.

"Guilty as charged," he said, giving you a slightly bashful grin. "You ready to eat?"

"Absolutely," you said, returning his smile. "The dining table is this way." You led him to the dining room and you both sat your bowls and plates with the soup, bread and pie on the table. Seconds later, you were both seated and eating the soup as you got to know each other better. Or rather, Kenny got to know you better. It seemed as though any time you asked him a question about himself, he somehow deflected the question back to you.

Soon, you'd finished your bowl of soup and one of the rolls. "Oh, my gosh! This is all so delicious, I'm absolutely stuffed. But I have to at least try this pumpkin pie!" You forked up a bite and chewed the creamy, spicy bite of pie. "Wow, Kenny. You're a really good cook! Have you ever thought about going into catering?"

He shook his head as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and pushed his desert plate aside. "No. Not really. Cooking is just something I enjoy doing to unwind. I'd have to choose between writing and cooking. And well, writing would win every time."

"Why don't we go into the den? We could sit on the sofa and chat a little more comfortably," you suggested.

"Sounds good," Kenny replied, standing up as you also rose to your feet.

Your head felt fuzzy as you stood and you held on to the edge of the table for a moment, waiting for the feeling to go away.

"You okay," he asked, taking hold of your elbow.

You nodded, "Yeah. Just felt like I had a case of medicine head there for a second," you forced a chuckle and headed for the hallway. "I've not been sleeping well for a long time. I think it's just catching up with me."

He nodded as you both entered the den and sat down on the large sofa. "Probably so," he said, watching you yawn. "Maybe I should go and let you get some rest. We could try this again sometime after the holidays."

You nodded sleepily, but also felt the need to clear something up. "That would be fine, but... Kenny, I really need to tell you something."

"Sure," he said, leaning back into the sofa and eyeing you. "What is it?"

"I'm not trying to seem egotistical by assuming that this..." you motioned to yourself and him, "will go anywhere. But I have to make sure you understand. I don't _intend_ for it to go anywhere. I hope a mere friendship is okay with you."

He nodded, a flash of disappointment crossing his face. "Why don't you intend there to be more? If you don't mind my asking."

You swallowed hard, and managed to stifle another yawn. "I'm in love with someone." Your eyes were growing a little heavy, but you still watched him cautiously as he leaned toward you and played with a tendril of your hair then smoothly shifted his hand to your cheek.

"Where is he?"

You closed your eyes a moment. Kenny's finger brushing over your cheek bone and then trailing over your bottom lip was beginning to lull you. "Hmmm," you hummed slightly in response. "What?"

"Where is he," he asked again. "Why isn't he with you?"

The truth rendered you speechless for a moment and then you opened your eyes to look at Kenny. "I never said he loves me in return. Because... He doesn't." You felt a pang in your chest and your hand shot up to rub the pain away. But it only grew worse. It graduated into a full-on burn.

"Well, he's an idiot," Kenny went on, seemingly unaware of your discomfort. "I'd treat you so much better, Y/N."

The fire in your chest rushed into your stomach, and as you stood to your feet in a hurry, it shot into your lower half as well as your legs. A cry passed your lips and you sank to your knees in the floor, sobbing in agony.

Kenny's whisper was next to your ear when he spoke next. "You need to help me, Y/N. Bálor has to pay for what he did to me."

"What're... you talking about," you asked, curling your body; desperate to stop the torment. _How does he know about Bálor_?

"This is for the best. You'd be miserable with him anyway."

Even through the intense fire roaring through your body, you were able to realize that he must've drugged you with something. You groaned as the pain made its way to your arms and head. Not an inch of your body was free of torture.

A glass touched your lips then. "Here. Drink this. It'll help the process along."

You shifted your head aside, "What...is...that? K-Kenny? What...are you...doing?" Your questions came out in pants as your head throbbed and pulsed.

"Drink it, Y/N, or I'll be forced to inject you with it."

Your arm burned as you lifted it and then defiantly batted the glass away from your face. You were faintly aware of the sound of glass shattering, and Kenny's disappointed sigh.

"I didn't want to do it this way, sweetheart."

In the next instant, he ripped your blouse at the collar, sending a couple of its buttons flying. You gasped and tried to struggle but the pain in your head was debilitating. Then your arms were pinned above your head to stop your feeble attempt at fighting him. You watched in helpless horror as Kenny raised a large syringe over his head, as if it were a large knife, and aimed it at your chest. The needle looked huge, and the idea of it sticking you, _anywhere_ , terrified you.

"N-No... Kenny... P-please..."

"I have to erase the bonding, Y/N," he said softly, an apologetic look on his face. "It's the only way I can avenge what he took from me. This potion will make you forget him—he'll lose you. And losing his mate will..." Kenny smirked slightly. "Well, he'll long for death."

"Y-you're wrong..." you cried softly. You were amazed you could still make a coherent sentence. "He forgot about me... He won't care..."

"We'll see," Kenny said, and then jammed the needle into your chest, instantly pumping its contents directly into your heart. You screamed from the pain, sure that the puncture to your heart was going to kill you.

You were aware of Kenny's soft voice muttering "I'm sorry" as a renewed fire burned in your chest and began another trip through your entire body. Another scream of agony ripped from your mouth as you burned from the inside out.

"Oh, God... Kenny... Please..." you cried as your body twisted and curled, trying to find relief from the pain he'd forced on you. "I-I can't... P-please, make... it stop..." Yet another scream burst forth as he gathered you up in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I can't," he said, carrying you toward the stairs. "It has to run its course."

"It's killing me." Your sobs and gasps ran together until you began hyperventilating, and still nothing relieved the torture. Your brain fogged over quickly then. Nothing made sense to you.

 _Why is Kenny carrying me_?

"What's... happening..." you asked suddenly, as he laid you down on your bed. "Am I sick?"

"Yes, sweetheart. You passed out for a few minutes," he told you, avoiding your eyes. "You just need some sleep. You'll be fine."

"It's so hot..." you told him, weakly fanning at your face.

Puzzled, you watched as Kenny placed his hands at your temples. An image came into your mind. One of a man—a tall man with dark hair and the brightest blue eyes. A beard, and mustache. You heard Kenny's voice mumbling in a language you didn't understand. And as your eyes grew heavy, the dark-haired man's image became clearer. Panic seized you. You wanted him out of your head; away from you completely.

" _If you see this man, RUN. He's dangerous to you._ " Kenny's voice whispered within your head. " _He means to kill you. Don't give him a chance to speak, because he'll bewitch you. And then it will be too late. Just get away from him_."

"Get away," you whispered, growing drowsier. Your vision was dimming. "I'll run away."

"That's good, sweetheart," Kenny murmured. "You'll be fine."

Your eyes closed completely then, and your world faded to black.

When you awoke, you were still burning up, and still hurting a little bit as well. You couldn't remember what had transpired to make you feel so terrible and drained. You didn't even remember getting into bed the night before. As you sat up on the edge of the bed, you looked down at yourself and noticed you were still in your clothes from the day before.

"Ugh, what happened to me," you groaned softly, touching your forehead. Your eyes fell on a note placed on your night table. Picking it up, you read:

_You seemed exhausted last night. I put you to bed and let myself out. Hope you are doing better today. Take care of yourself, sweetheart._

_~Kenny_

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, you rose from the bed gingerly, testing your balance. Your vision swam a little bit, but seemed to stabilize as you carefully made your way to the bathroom. _I have to go check in with Steven at the hotel_ , you thought. _It doesn't matter how rotten I feel, I need to know he's doing okay._

After trying to cool yourself down with a slightly-chilly shower, and blow-drying your hair, you felt a little better. Your dizziness had dissipated for the most part, but some of your pain and the heat remained. After dressing in a long, feminine but comfortable skirt, as well as a blouse, you pulled on some knee-high boots and a spare coat you owned—even though you didn't feel like you needed it. However, you knew it would look odd to people outside if you were sans a coat. You grabbed your purse and tucked your gun into your coat pocket, then went out the door to catch a cab to Target.

Thanks to the remnants of the Black Friday sale it took you over two hours to buy Steven just a few sets of clothes and underwear as well as some pajamas and toiletries so he'd be more comfortable. Then you hailed another cab and headed to the Pearl hotel.

After a short ride, the cab driver pulled in front of the hotel's entrance and you gathered your shopping bags before climbing out of the taxi. The air was becoming more crisp and frigid as the day wore on. Yet it didn't bother you in the least. Eager to get your errand completed, you hurried through the hotel's modern glass doors, walking strait for the bank of elevators in the lobby. Once you were in the lift, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back on the wall behind you, already exhausted from your shopping trip.

_I just want to get my visit done so I can go home and get some more rest. I really am starting to feel ill._

The elevator dinged, indicating you'd reached your chosen floor. Once the doors opened, you stepped off into the hallway and made your way to Steven's room. Promptly you knocked and awaited his answer.

The door opened and you were greeted by the sight of a shirtless Steven scrubbing at his head with a towel. You couldn't help but gawk a little at his muscled frame and the way his plaid pajama bottoms hung low on his sculpted hips. Luckily, the towel Steven was drying off with obscured his face so he didn't see you staring.

 _Funny... He doesn't look all that thin,_ you thought. _How does he maintain his weight and muscle if he's not eating regularly?_

"Sorry," he chuckled, his voice muffled from underneath his towel. "Just got out of the shower." He moved away from the door and allowed you to enter, towel still hiding his face. "I'll be right back," he told you, heading back for the bathroom. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you," you said softly, admiring the view of his back muscles rippling as he still dried at his hair and reentered the bathroom. _There's something familiar about him_ , you thought. _But I can't put my finger on how or why_. You turned to the desk the room provided and sat the shopping bags on it. You quickly removed your coat and draped it over the desk chair.

 _I need to see a doctor_. _This is not normal to feel so hot._

The bathroom door opened as you were laying out Steven's clothes in piles of folded fabric. "I bought a few clothes and toiletries for you," you started, turning around to face him. "I thought you might need-" You're words halted as your gaze focused on the shirtless man in the room with you.

The man who most definitely was not Steven.

This man was _much_ more handsome—devastatingly so in fact, what with his bright blue eyes and well-groomed beard. But he sent a chill of terror racing down your spine despite his physical attributes. His smile was gorgeous, but you didn't care. You just wanted out of the room and away from him.

Too bad you were frozen in place.

"Hello, m' love," he said softly, his tone rich and thick with an Irish accent. His arms shifted, about to open, for whatever reason, you had no idea.

Something stirred in you. A memory. This very man, in a black suit, holding you in his arms, whispering softly to you—touching you gently. Obviously not _harming_ you.

 _NO!_ _He's just getting into my head_! _I have to get out of here_!

Confusion crossed his face as you stepped back away from him. You instantly took advantage of his bewildered state, and darted for the door.

It was as if he could read your mind. He was barring access to the door a split second after you dove for it. "No." You cried softly as you halted and whirled around glancing around the room for another means of escape. Before you could come up with a plan, however, he grabbed you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides with only one arm, and then placed his hand over your mouth as you attempted to scream.

You shot your elbows back into his ribs the best you could and to your instant relief, he released you. You had the distinct feeling that he'd let you go not because you'd hurt him, but because he sensed you were about to have a meltdown. _But that's crazy_ , you thought as you ran for your coat and grabbed up your gun. _He's going to try and kill me_! _Why would he care if I was going to have some sort of fit_? You spun around then, pointing the revolver at his head.

"Y/N... _Agra..."_ His voice was soft, tranquil as he slowly raised his hands in a calming gesture. His empty palms faced you. "Put d'a gun down, honey. I'd _never_ hurt ya. It's me—Bálor."

Suddenly, your head exploded. Various scenes and voices and words blasted through your mind, almost simultaneously.

 _You were in the cold, darkness of night—a frightening woman chasing you_.

 _"Why Bálor wants_ you _—a mere mortal li'l human... I'll never know..."_

_"Are ya alright, lass?"_

_"I'm in a wee bit of a hurry seein' as Bálor is close by."_

_A stab to your chest. Blood. So much blood... You felt the sensation of teeth breaking your skin, your body weakening as the blood left you._

" _SCAOIL MO BANRÍON, BITSEACH_!"

" _Are ya all right, agra_?"

_You recalled falling. Arms caught you and lowered you gently to the ground. You looked up and saw Bálor; his frantic need to treat your wounds. His soft voice whispering words in Irish, as well as English._

_"Why didn't ya stay wit' me? I would've never allowed her t' touch ya..."_

_"I'm Bálor..."_

_BálorBálorBálorBálorBálorBálorBálorBálorBálor_

_Suddenly, you were lying in a bed—the Irishman tenderly cleaning blood from your body._

_Then sadness. Despair. Loneliness. For a long time._

_And Kenny._

_A syringe. A huge needle being shoved into your chest. Pain melded into more pain. You felt it all over again—the fire burning in your head._

Finally the memories and overlapping voices stopped, but unfortunately the pain didn't. You slowly came back to yourself and realized you were lying on the floor. Strong arms were around you, holding you securely. Your gun had disappeared. A hand cradled your head while a thumb stroked over your cheekbone.

"Please... K-Kenny," you whispered, hoping—wishing somehow he'd hear you and grant your request. "Make the pain... M-make it stop..."

"'Kenny'?" Bálor gently took hold of your chin and made you meet his darkening gaze. "What did Kenny Omega do t' ya, Y/N?" His hand shifted to caress your cheek. You grimaced at the scorching fire that shot through your entire body yet seemed mostly concentrated in your head. "Ye're burnin' up, love," you heard him murmur; a touch of worry in his tone. "What'd he do t' ya?"

It took a moment for you to gain the strength to speak. But when you did, you didn't even recognize any intelligible words that passed your lips. Pressure built in your head suddenly and sent another surge of pain burning behind your eyes. You cried out weakly and then fought to breathe through the pain.

"He erased d'a bondin'," Bálor snarled suddenly. "He's dead," he growled. "I'll vaporize d'a one-winged freak!"

"Was no bond," you whispered. Your head grew too heavy to hold up and you let it fall back against the carpet. "Lied to me... You never came back..." Your body shuddered as a sob burst from you and your gaze met his. Your eyes burned with tears and much to your chagrin, one spilled down your cheek. "You've...destroyed me..."

Everything around you blurred slightly as Bálor wordlessly lifted you into his arms.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Bálor watched for her reaction when he came out of the bathroom, a big grin plastered across his gorgeous face.

_I can't wait t' see 'er face when I tell 'er d'at it's time for us t' be together, finally._

"I bought a few clothes and toiletries for you," she said as she turned around. "I thought you might need-"

Her eyes fell on him and she froze.

"Hello, m' love," he said softly, about to open his arms to her, but he stopped when she remained where she was. A flicker of recognition crossed her face and he thought for an instant, that she'd just been momentarily startled at seeing him after a whole year. His relief was short-lived however. She backed away from him, terror in her eyes. He watched her in baffled silence, right before she hurled herself toward the door. In the blink of an eye, Bálor stood in front of it, blocking the only safe exit from the room.

Y/N stopped in her tracks and a soft uttered "no" passed her lips before she spun around, hurriedly searching for another way to her freedom. Moving forward at an alarming rate of speed, Bálor seized her from behind, clutching her tightly against him and covering her mouth with his hand to silence her.

He could feel her panic; the way her body tensed and then began trying to strike out at him with her elbows. He released her. He couldn't bear her being any more frightened of him than she already was. Wearily, he watched as she ran to her coat and pulled a gun from the pocket, then whirled on him, aiming the gun at his head.

"Y/N... _Agra_ , put d'a gun down, honey," he nearly whispered. Submissively showing her his empty hands. "I'd _never_ hurt ya. It's me—Bálor."

He watched in horror as her gun tumbled from her hands, and hit the carpet in front of her with a thud. She fell to the floor then, grasping at her head and writhing in obvious pain. Bálor hurried over and kicked the revolver over toward the bed. Then he tugged Y/N into his arms and held on to her, scared out of his mind with worry. His hand came up to support her head and he pulled her closer.

A soft cry rang past her lips and he heard her murmur "Kenny", while pleading for him to "make the pain stop".

It was then Bálor realized two things as his vision went scarlet.

One, some soon-to-be-dead man had hurt his queen—was _still_ hurting her.

And two?

That soon-to-be-dead man was none other than Kenny Omega.

"'Kenny'? Carefully placing his fingers underneath her chin and tilting her head back slightly, Bálor fixed his gaze on hers. The sight of her ashen skin and hollowed eyes shocked him. She was much thinner than the last time he saw her. "What did Kenny Omega do t' ya, Y/N?" He brushed his fingers over the soft skin of her cheek. He nearly gasped at the heat radiating from her. A body temperature that high was of course, normal for him, but a mortal human? He watched her wince in pain, and fought against the rage threatening to take over. _She's not ready t' see me like d'at_ , he thought. _I have t' stay calm._ "Ye're burnin' up, love. What'd he do t' ya?"

Bálor watched as Y/N took several labored breaths, trying to gain the strength to speak. But when she did, nothing more than gibberish mixed in with gasps for air came from her throat.

Instantly, he tried to enter her mind to get some answers there.

But he couldn't.

He could see nothing.

 _D'a bondin'_ , he realized. He stopped trying to enter her mind when she cried weakly and leaned against him again. It was hurting her even more when he attempted it.

"He erased d'a bondin'?!" Bálor's growl reverberated in his throat. "He's dead! I'll vaporize d'a one-winged freak!"

"Was no bond," Y/N muttered as her head fell weakly against the floor. "Lied to me... You never came back..." A sob shook her slender frame. Her sad, tired gaze met his for a moment. A tear welled up in her eye and spilled over. "You've...destroyed me..."

Bálor felt his heart clench at her declaration, as well as her tears. Her eyes lost focus as she went limp against the carpet. He quickly scooped her tiny frame up as he stood to his feet, cradling her against his chest and hurried across the room to the bed.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

After gently laying you on the king-sized bed, Bálor picked your gun up and laid it on the night table next to you. Then he took your hand in his own, brushing his lips over the hot skin of it. He murmured in Irish, chanting something that seemed to make the fever diminish. The pain too. Within minutes, you began to feel a little more like yourself.

"Why are you here," you asked, when you were finally able to speak more normally. "It's been a year, Bálor. A _year_." You bit your lip, hating the fact you couldn't keep the hurt out of your voice.

" _Tá brón orm_ ," Bálor whispered, turning your hand and kissing the palm. "I'm s' sorry, kitten. I didn't mean t' hurt ya." Guilt crossed his face, and you got the distinct feeling it was the first time he had ever felt the emotion. "I knew I was bondin' ya t' me too soon. I'd wanted t' wait until we were able t' be together. But ya were dyin' and I had no choice, love." He swallowed hard, then continued. "The bondin' intensifies our emotions, our feelings—our _love_ for each other. I can handle d'at because I was expectin' it. But I was... distracted that night what with your wounds," he said, "and failed to explain it to ya." He let out a soft, frustrated sigh. "The reason you feel hurt, is because we bonded, and yet we were unable to be together at d'at time. I typically would've only bonded ya t' me when we were able t' be married."

"You could have taken me with you then. Why wait a year and make me suffer?" You moved to sit on the edge of the bed and brushed his hands away when he tried to stop you. "I'm fine now," you lied, still hurt by his actions. "I just need to stand a minute."

Gingerly, you rose to her feet and started to step away from him when he stood too, but he wouldn't have it. He took hold of your hand and tugged you up against him. "I want ya close," he whispered in your ear. "I don't want ya t' fall and hurt y'rself." He reached up and brushed some hair away from your face, and let his fingers linger at your cheek.

"So," you said, pulling your face away. "Why did you leave me behind? I would've thought the whole thing was a dream if not for the ring you left on my finger." You reached down and tenderly brushed your right index finger over the claddagh ring. "I thought..." You shuddered with a sob as you struggled to express what he'd done to you—what he'd put you through. "I thought you changed your mind. That you didn't want me anymore. And it hurt. You made me fall in love with you—in one single night. And then it felt as though you just tossed me aside-"

"I _didn't_ toss ya aside, m' love," he said. "I f'rgot how time moves faster f'r me. Time doesn't affect me d'a way it does a human. And f'r d'is, I'm sorry. I had t' be sure d'at ya were ready for this. And I had t' make sure ya were still d'a same woman. A lovin' woman who helps d'ose in need around 'er—the opposite of what I've always done. Someone wit' a kind, soft heart. Someone wit' courage. And-"

"So, what would you have done if I became a cold, distant shrew? What if I'd been so traumatized that I _wasn't_ the same woman? Would you have forgotten me and married someone else?" Your questions tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. It hurt to think that he'd blame you if the trauma of your attack had indeed changed you.

He smiled softly and shook his head. "D'ere _isn't_ anyone else for me, love. No, I wouldn't have forgotten ya or abandoned ya, or anyt'ing o' d'a sort. I'd have kept lovin' ya for eternity. I love ya so deeply d'at yer old self would've had no choice but t' reemerge."

He leaned down then and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you felt yourself melt instantly.

"But I've found that ya _have_ changed," he went on. "Only, f'r d'a better. Ya went t'rough a complete nightmare last T'anksgivin', and yet here ya are, still handin' out meals t' aid d'a poor. Ye're still able t' do d'a very t'ing d'at got ya int' trouble. I could literally _feel_ y'r fear when I approached ya as 'Steven'. But ya helped me anyway. Ye're even more beautiful t' me now. You're perfect, and ye're mine. _All_ mine."

"If you do the opposite of helping people, then why do you want me?" you asked suddenly, only just catching what he'd said minutes prior.

"Opposites attract," he answered matter-of-factly. "I'm the Demon King. Your sweet, kind heart is part o' your appeal t' me. Maybe I'm hopin' your goodness will rub off on me. Bein' evil, gets quite tiresome and mundane," he said with a slight curve of his lips.

"Maybe you're not completely evil," you point out. "If you truly love me..."

"I do."

"If you have the ability to love in you, you can't be all evil."

Bálor chuckled softly as he gazed down at you and traced your bottom lip with his thumb. "D'at's anot'er of d'a many reasons I love ya s' much. Your ability t' see d'a good in everyone—even me."

"I love you, Bálor," you whispered with a trembling breath. "And I was so scared of losing you. I still am."

"Ya won't lose me," he said, his whisper equally as soft as yours. His hand shifted to your jaw and drew your face closer to his.

"But the bonding," you started. "Kenny erased-"

"We'll just have t' perform d'a bonding' again." Bálor smiled softly.

At the mention of Kenny erasing your bonding, it finally occurred to you that Bálor had mentioned him several times—as if he knew him. "H-how... How do you know Kenny?"

His gaze darkened again at the mention of the man. "Long story short... He took something from me. And d'en I took somethin' from him."

You rubbed at your temples until Bálor took over for you. His thumbs soothed away the mild pain still trying to burst forth. "I don't understand."

He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, and settled you in his lap. "Kenny Omega is an angel...sort o'. He wanted t' live his life for himself only, s' he went off on his own. He's actually become quite corrupted an' evil. In some ways, even more d'an I."

He paused a moment, and you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. But then it vanished as quickly as it came, and he seemed to grow almost distant; angry about something. You brought his hand to your lips and kissed it softly then reached up and turned his face to yours, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone. "Don't do that," you whispered. "I need to see you— _all_ of you. Whatever you're feeling, I... I need to feel it _with_ you."

He almost seemed to melt at your words. He took the hand you held to his face and shifted it to his mouth, kissing the palm tenderly. And with a soft nod, he continued his story. "I have a large fam'ly," he said, lacing his fingers with yours. "Lots o' brot'ers and sisters. My youngest sister... Well, she was the ray of light in our fam'ly. She was doted upon by all of us."

"No," you whispered at hearing him refer to his youngest sister in the past tense. You began to see where this was headed. "Please, tell me he didn't-"

"Kenny Omega grew infatuated wit' 'er. When she didn't return his affections... His obsession turned to rage. And..." He shuddered out another sigh. "He killed 'er. And so, I attempted t' kill him, in return. But I failed. I managed t' take one o' his wings, but d'at was all."

You stood from his lap and walked a couple of steps away from him. You almost felt numb, save for the tear that spilled down your cheek. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"You had not'ing t' do wit' it, love."

"But, I..." You turned and managed to meet his gaze despite the guilt you felt. "I'd befriended him! I believed him when he said you'd try to kill me. How stupid was that? I can't believe I-"

Bálor stood in front of you in an instant and tugged you up against him. There was no malice on his face, only love. "Did he tell you about my sister and what he did to her?"

You shook your head quickly. "No! I'd have _never_ let him into my house if I'd known! He only said that he had to make you pay for what you did to him."

He smiled softly at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes. His hand came up and brushed some hair away from your face. "An' did ya believe him willin'ly? Or did he do somet'ing t' _literally_ make ya believe him?"

You blinked at him. "I..." You thought hard back to the night before. "I'm not sure." You shook your head, trying to recall. "I remember getting really sick after we ate dinner. And I can only vaguely remember him telling me about avenging what you did to him, but after that... nothing."

"He used somet'ing on ya," Bálor growled. "A drug, or potion, or maybe some kind o' mind-manipulation." He tilted your chin up toward his face then. "My point in askin' was t' show ya d'at none o' d'is was y'r fault, honey. Ya didn't betray me, like ya seem t' ti'nk. He _forced_ his way int' yer life."

You nodded, still feeling guilty, however. Then you stared up into his sapphire eyes. "It'll never happen again," you told him. "He'd have to kill me."

He yanked your slender frame up even closer against him, and forced a gasp from you. "Don't let me hear ya talkin' like d'at anymore," he whispered. "I never even knew I had a heart 'til I found ya. If ya were taken from me..." he inhaled harshly. "I t'ink I'd lose the damn t'ing all over again, along wit' my mind."

You reached up and brushed your fingertips lovingly down his cheek to his lips and smiled. "I'm not going anywhere, my king. Wherever you are, I am as well."

He growled deep in his throat. "I can't wait t' make ya mine, woman."

"Neither can I."

Bálor's voice rumbled softly in his chest as he shifted his head closer to yours. "I saw ya wit' d'at li'l lass—the one livin' on d'a street wit' her _máthair_ and _seanmháthair._ D'a way ya were wit' her—how ya treated 'er... Ye're goin' t' be an amazing _máthair_ to our children. 'Twas all I could do t' keep from revealin' m'self t' ya right then."

You felt your face flush at the thought of Bálor watching you unawares. Then the flush shifted into all-out flaming when you thought about giving him children. A goosebumpy feeling settled over your heart, a feeling you'd only experienced once in your life.

A year prior, nearly to the day.

"I want several babies, you know," you whispered, brushing your lips across his cheek. "As many as we can have."

He chuckled in your ear, "Oh, honey... So do I." His hand came up to your chin and tilted your head back, making you meet his gaze. "I'll do everyt'ing in my power t' keep ya happy because I cherish ya. I promise I'll never cause ya t' weep again—unless it's tears o' joy or pleasure."

A smile spread across your face. "I love you. I always will. And I promise to always try my hardest to please you and make you happy."

Bálor grinned, true joy radiating from his sapphire gaze. "I t'ink we just said our weddin' vows, love." He brought your ringed finger to his lips and kissed it. When he pulled a way, your claddagh ring was no longer a simple silver ring. It was now gold, and the hands in the ring held a large heart-shaped diamond. "We're married now, _agra_."

You gaped at him, "But... there was no minister... No wedding license-"

You were cut off by Bálor's robust laugh. "Where I'm from, d'at's not how we do weddin's, honey—unless we wish to. We made vows t' each ot'er from our hearts. No piece o' paper can make it any more official d'an d'at."

You swallowed hard, digesting the life-changing news he'd just given you. "We're married?"

"Married," he repeated with a huge smile. "Ye're officially my wife—my _queen_."

A second later, his mouth claimed yours in a slow, soft kiss. He took his time, brushing his lips tenderly across yours, as if testing for your reaction. When your arms wrapped securely around his neck, you heard a growl vibrate deep in his throat and his kiss grew a little rougher; more aggressive. The next thing you knew you were lying on the bed with him on top of you. His tongue slid past your lips then and at your gasp of surprise, he plundered your mouth, tasting every inch of the sweet, warm cavern. You moaned, curling your fingers into his hair, scraping your fingernails lightly against his scalp. You pulled back just enough to whisper in a shaky voice, "That's the first time you've kissed my mouth."

Bálor smiled, true joy in his eyes as his gaze scanned your blushing face. "And it sure won't be d'a last." He reclaimed your mouth and his beard tickled at your chin. You moaned again, wondering what it would feel like for that beard of his to scrape across your-

"Well, well, well. That kiss has to be _the_ hottest thing I've ever witnessed."

One second you were lying underneath Bálor on the bed, and in the next instant you were on your feet being tugged securely behind him. Your gaze shot up over Bálor's shoulder, and you spotted Kenny Omega standing in front of the hotel room's door with two other men flanking him on either side.

 _I don't recognize them_ , you thought, your forehead creasing with confusion. _They look like brothers... Same faces. Same long, dark hair..._

"The only thing hotter," Kenny added suggestively, "will be when I'm making her mine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE, ROH, or NJPW. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
> 
> Story Content & Trigger Warnings: Graphic violence, and some mind/body manipulation.

"The only thing hotter, will be when I'm making her mine."

Your horrified gasp was easily missed due to the extremely loud snarl that rumbled in your husband's chest. However, Kenny seemed to ignore it as he craned his neck around Bálor and leered at you; a perverted grin on his face.

Puzzled, you glanced down and saw where your skirt was hiked up high on one of your hips, and your destroyed blouse was hanging open, almost exposing your chest. Apparently, you hadn't had time to note how exuberant your husband had become only minutes before. Your face burned as you quickly lowered your skirt and pulled the remnants of your blouse together, managing to find one functional button left on it. You secured it and restored some of your modesty just as Bálor spoke.

"I don't wanna rip you and your li'l minions t' shreds in front of my wife, Omega. But I will if I haft'a. I'll let ya leave now, and we can settle d'is at anot'er time."

Kenny scoffed to the two baby-faced men standing with him. "Did ya hear that, Nick? Matt? He doesn't want to hurt us in front of the little wifey!" He and the men shared a good laugh and you reached up, latching onto Bálor's bicep in your nervousness. His shoulder and arm tensed and grew warmer beneath your fingertips the more his Irish and supernatural temper ignited.

Kenny suddenly stopped laughing and then dismissively looked past his adversary to you. "What happened to "running away" from him, darlin'?"

The Demon King's arm pressed against your waist in an attempt to move you behind him further.

Furious, you blasted the one-winged angel with a glare. "What's wrong, Kenny? Mad that your childish little plan didn't work?" You feigned courage even as your body trembled with fear and stared into his eyes. "Nothing— _Nothing_ —you do will keep me away from him." You squeezed Bálor's arm and kissed his rigid shoulder, hoping to calm him a little. "And nothing you do will ruin my love for him."

Kenny's blue eyes flashed fire for an instant, but he quickly recovered and gave you a chilling smile. "Oh, baby..." His tone went mocking and more than slightly suggestive. "I don't care about ruining your love," he taunted. "I'm just gonna ruin _you_."

A loud roar resounded within the confines of the hotel room, and Bálor shot forward, intending to attack. Afraid of what might happen, you screamed his name at the exact same moment you heard two loud thumps.

You watched in terror as Bálor fell back to the carpet with a gnash of his teeth. Twin metal spikes poked out from his stomach.

"NO!" You couldn't have stopped the scream if you'd tried. You dove down to the floor next to your husband. "What did you do to him?" You glanced at the trio and saw the man known as "Matt" holding a strange gun in his hands.

"Relax, darlin'," Kenny replied, as he grinned at his two cronies. "It's just a little concoction of mine. Something to keep him... a little mellow."

"Ohhh... 'm gonna k-kill ya, Omega..." Bálor groaned sluggishly, trying to sit up. "Once and f'r all..."

Kenny guffawed as The Demon King continued to try and rise from the floor.

"Don't get up," you told him, urging him to stay on the floor. You sniffled and wiped at your tears. "You'll be dizzy. You could-" You went silent as you eyed the large shafts of metal protruding from him. "What do I do," you asked urgently, your voice shaking uncontrollably. "Do I get you a doctor?" You'd seen so many science-fiction movies, you had no idea if his DNA was all jacked up beyond belief. Horrifying mental images of Bálor being dissected like an alien species filled your head.

He shook his head, "Just pull 'em out."

You wanted to protest. You couldn't bear putting him in pain. But they did need to come out. Shakily, you wrapped your hands around the first one and began to slowly tug it upward, so as to minimize the pain for your husband.

He grunted softly. "Quickly, love. Don't worry about hurting me. Do 'em at d'a same time."

You gave him a small nod and grasped each of the rod-like darts in both your hands. "I'm sorry." And with that, you yanked up on them and then fought back more tears as Bálor groaned and collapsed fully to the carpet. "I'm so sorry!" You sobbed the words and pressed your hands against his wounds in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. "Are you going to be okay," you asked frantically, fighting off a wave of nausea. "Oh, Bálor, please, be okay. I can't lose you-"

He looked up at you then, fatigue clouding his blue eyes which had sparkled with passion only moments before. But you could also see urgency in his gaze— _fear_.

"I'll be fine, honey. Ya have t'... hafta... g-get outta h-here, Y/N..." He swallowed hard, fighting to move. "He k-killed m' sister... C-canna' let him h-hurt you too..."

Your heart clenched, and you shook your head rapidly before brushing your lips over his. "I'm not leaving you," you whispered, trailing your fingers down his bearded cheek. "I can't. Not ever."

"You're most definitely leaving him, doll."

You turned your attention from Bálor in order to glare at Kenny again. "I don't know what you think you're doing here, Kenny. But I am _not_ leaving my husband." To emphasize your point, you shot to your feet and grabbed up your revolver off the night table. Spinning back around, you held it up and aimed it at Kenny.

He chuckled. Though there _was_ a look of surprise that crossed his face. "You aren't going to shoot us, darlin'."

"No?"

With no hesitation whatsoever, you turned the gun on the man Kenny had referred to as "Nick", and fired a shot into his knee. The younger man howled and sank to the floor grasping at his leg, blood flowing freely over his hands. Several colorful curse words surged from his mouth as you shifted the gun's aim back to Kenny.

"You were saying?"

To your surprise, Kenny was laughing.

And immediately, you saw why.

Nick rose from the floor, still cursing. "That stings!" His face no longer reflected pain, and he was able to stand on both legs. In fact, he grinned at you and hopped on the leg you shot a few times to prove his point.

"What- He- I-" You shook your head, confused as to how that was possible.

"We're not helpless mortals," Kenny clarified. "We heal fast—for the most part. But _you_ don't. You're much more fragile."

You finger twitched against the trigger, literally itching to put a bullet in Kenny Omega. Even if it wouldn't kill him, it would at least hurt him and give you a little satisfaction.

His face went pensive then; full of concentration. Before you could fire off a shot at him, you felt as though someone had hold of your arms and was turning you—gun and all—toward Bálor. The gun pointed down at him, against your own wishes. Horror-stricken, you glanced back at Kenny to find a cocky grin on his face.

"No," you uttered softly in disbelief. You could feel your finger beginning to squeeze at the trigger. "NO!" This time your cry was frenzied.

"Come with us, _willingly_ , then. I won't make you hurt him if you do." Kenny's voice held a tone of smugness, as if he already knew he'd won.

"I'll be okay, love," Bálor mumbled. His gaze was slightly out of focus. "A gun won't kill me. Don't go near d'em."

You could have sworn you heard Kenny let out a frustrated sigh. "If you're gonna wreck my leverage...fine. No, darlin'. The gun won't kill him, but it _will_ kill _you_."

Your arms bent then, and despite your struggle to control your limbs, the gun's barrel was suddenly underneath your chin. Your heart jolted and your breaths went shallow as fear chilled you to the bone. "No, please," you whispered, looking frantically from Kenny to Bálor. Your husband had an atypical look of sheer terror on his face. All of your bravado was gone. "Please, don't do this in front of him! Don't make him watch me die!"

Kenny chuckled, his icy blue eyes clearly enjoying your torment. "Well, that's completely up to him." His gaze shifted down to Bálor on the floor. "If you don't wish for your wife to die—and right in front of you, _king_ , I'd suggest you urge her to surrender herself to me."

Bálor finally managed to weakly rise to his knees for a moment before collapsing again. "Y'r dead!"

The revolver inched away from your chin and immediately, of its own volition, your finger squeezed the trigger, firing off a shot—a warning. Heat blasted from the gun and brushed against your face, forcing a scream past your throat. The bullet had only narrowly missed hitting you.

Your knees buckled, and you landed on your bottom in the floor. "Oh, my God," you gasped. Your voice sounded muffled to you. The gunshot must have temporarily deafened you what with its close proximity when it went off.

In the next instant you were holding the gun underneath your chin again. The scorching hot barrel seared your skin. If your hearing had been a hundred percent, you were sure you could've heard it sizzle. The pain from the burn forced a sharp cry past your lips.

And what you did next, you hated yourself for.

You burst into tears.

All of it was too much to take in. The pain, the sheer terror of facing death so closely, the fact that Bálor had finally come back for you—only to have that joy quickly yanked out of your grasp...

 _It can't end like this. It just can't_!

**"Y/N!"**

You finally became aware of Bálor shouting your name. Still stunned, you lifted your tear-blurred gaze to his and had to nearly read his lips to figure out what he was saying.

"Ya need t' go wit' him, love."

You could see it was taking everything he had to say those words. His nostrils were flaring, his teeth were clenched, and he was balling his fists repeatedly. Not to mention his eyes were flashing black.

Before you even thought, your head was shaking vigorously. "N-no..."

Bálor glanced up at Kenny, fear mixed with fury within his sapphire gaze, and then he looked back at you again. "Listen t' me, Y/N," he said. "If ya don't go wit' him, he'll kill ya. Right in front o' me. I can't handle d'at, honey. I _can't_. Ya need t' go wit' him. I'll find ya. I promise. I'll never give up. I swear I will have ya in m' arms again—safe an' sound."

A sob shuddered your frame as you gave a single nod. "O-okay." Your voice sounded less muffled. Though the fact didn't bring you any relief.

The gun finally dropped from your hands.

"Wise choice, darlin'."

Kenny's voice held a smile as well as a tone of complacency.

In the next instant, his fingers curled into your hair and he tossed you back to the floor, out of Bálor's reach. Your gaze shot to his as he knelt over you, and you caught the crazed look on his face. Your heart nearly stopped as he reached for your throat. "No," you whispered, moving to roll out of his path, only to find Nick and Matt blocking your escape.

The Demon King growled from the carpet. You could see him out of your peripheral vision attempting to work his limbs out of the paralysis that Kenny had drugged him into.

Kenny chuckled, obviously enjoying your fear as well as Bálor's anger. He straddled your waist then. He reached upward and caught your flailing fists, pinning your wrists above your head with one of his hands. He snapped his fingers at Matt and a syringe was tossed to him which he caught with his free hand, and uncapped with his teeth.

Your chest heaved as you panicked. You shook your head frantically, "No. NO! GET OFF ME!" You fought against him with everything you had, which wasn't much considering your arms were pinned. In the next instant, you felt a needle prick at your neck, and your struggles immediately began to lessen as drowsiness set in.

"It'll just calm you down, not totally knock you out," Kenny informed you casually. He leaned down to your ear and whispered, "I want you to feel _everything_ I do to you. Wanna know why?" He grinned. "Because it'll drive your husband insane."

Fighting sleepiness, you bucked against him, trying to unbalance him and make him topple off you but he managed to stay where he was with very little effort.

"Leave me alone..."

Your voice sounded soft and sluggish to your ears, very unlike Bálor's at that moment.

**"OMEGA, GET Y'R HANDS OFF 'ER! NOW!"**

You could feel his roar vibrate through your entire body. You weren't sure if it was due to his loudness, or if you were literally _feeling_ his anger.

"You're gonna wish for death."Kenny's eyes shifted over to Bálor's as he placed a deliberate kiss to your neck, flicking his tongue across your pulse and giving the tender skin a harsh nip. "Just like your late sister-in-law did."

His words hit Bálor like a punch to the gut if your husband's groan of pain was anything to go by. You could have sworn you heard him mutter something about ripping Kenny's head off.

"You're disgusting," you uttered, hating the tremor in your voice. You dared to meet Kenny's gaze. "Repulsive." While you had him somewhat distracted, you used your fist to punch Kenny between the legs. A howl of agony burst from his throat and as he started to hunch forward, you gathered the last of your strength and tossed your head up in a vicious headbutt. You heard a cracking noise and felt a sharp stab of pain ricochet through your head, and knew you'd hit your mark.

"What the hell," Nick yelled.

The next thing you knew, your head was snapping to the side. It felt as if you'd taken a brick to the face. Fire shot up from your jaw up to your temple. You attempted to blink away the pain from the punch.

Now in a rage, Kenny closed his hands around your throat and you knew it was over. As he began to squeeze off your air supply, you shot your gaze over to Bálor. The need to see him one last time surpassed any fear you felt at that moment. Your gaze met his, and your heart broke at the sheer fright and helpless rage in his eyes.

"Love... you..."

Somehow, you managed to choke the words out between desperate attempts to breathe. Feebly, you lifted your hands to your neck and tried to pry Kenny's fingers from around your throat, but to no avail.

"Pl-please," you sputtered. You begged him with your eyes as he squeezed harder. You could feel and hear your blood pounding in your ears, and your eyes felt as though they would pop out of your head at any moment. A tear dripped down your temple as your grip on his hands weakened. Your vision began blurring at the edges and threatening to darken. You became vaguely aware of movement in the floor, but you were too groggy to take in details. Kenny glanced over at a commotion and seemed to get in a hurry then. He squeezed your throat even tighter and your vision did begin to dim. A soft cry passed your lips as he grinned down at you. Then you heard him utter as darkness claimed you:

"Goodbye and goodnight, little queen."

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Love... you..."

Despite the vicious snarl that rumbled in his throat, Bálor watched helplessly as Kenny choked the life out of his queen. Her gaze shifted over to his face, and stayed there. He could see the light leaving her eyes. He didn't know what to do with the terror he was feeling in that moment. He'd never felt fear before. He suddenly wondered how humans dealt with the horrible emotion. _He_ felt paralyzed—and not just due to the drug Kenny had bestowed on him. His new-found heart was pumping wildly in his chest. He didn't like the feeling. His heart always accelerated when he even just looked at Y/N, but this wasn't the same. This felt as though his heart would actually fail him.

Seeing her struggle to free herself from Kenny's grip on her neck, he became determined. He muttered a curse, and began concentrating on his limbs, willing them to move. They felt as if they were asleep.

"Pl-please..."

His wife's soft voice begging to live was his undoing. " _BOG_ ," he shouted at himself in frustration. He knew time was running out for Y/N when a faint, choked cry passed her lips. He saw her hands slowly slip from Kenny's grasp.

"Goodbye and goodnight, little queen," Kenny growled in her face.

And then she went limp against the floor.

_**"NOOO!"** _

The roar blasted from Bálor's very soul, shattering anything glass within the room. The walls shuddered and began to crumble.

"Kenny..." Nick spoke up, eyeing the quaking room.

"Shut-up," he snapped, tossing Y/N's limp frame over his shoulder. "I got what I came for. Subdue him and meet me later. You know where."

"Subdue him? How," Matt demanded, noticing that Bálor was beginning to gain mobility in his body.

"Shoot him full of that stuff again," Kenny replied, exasperation evident on his face as well as in his voice. "Grow a pair and do your job!"

At that moment, Bálor let out another roar and out of nowhere, shot to his feet. Thunder rumbled overhead and a bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby because the room, for an instant, was nothing but white light.

Kenny murmured a curse, and then disappeared into thin air at the same time Matt shot another dose of the immobilizing drug at Bálor, but to no avail. The Demon King caught the metal spike-like dart and tossed it aside, fury brewing in his eyes. Focusing his attention on Matt and Nick, he lifted his arms and the two men rose above the floor. They shouted and struggled to gain their equilibrium, but Bálor had the brothers right where he wanted them.

Claws sprouted from his fingertips, and he began to lose his human-looking form. Swirls of red and black and white began materializing on his torso. His face went mostly black, and the irises of his eyes faded to red. Plumes of black and red smoke billowed around him like a cape.

It was safe to assume that Bálor had lost control of his supernatural side. The rage at seeing his wife mistreated in such a grotesque, barbaric manner had overpowered his human counterpart. "Kenny got us into this mess," Nick choked out, conversing with his brother. "And he's left us to deal with-"

 **"** _ **TOST!**_ **"** Bálor interrupted him in his native tongue. His voice had grown more gravelly and sinister. "Where. Is. She? WHERE'D OMEGA TAKE M' QUEEN?"

Neither of the men spoke up.

"Ya know where. I know ya do," Bálor growled, "an' ya _will_ tell me." His nose snarled. "Ya will tell me, because if ya don't..." His lip curled and he gnashed his teeth at them in a sadistic grin. "I'LL PERSONALLY MAKE SURE YA SUFFER F'R ETERNITY!" With a beckon of his clawed fingers, Nick went sailing through the air toward Bálor and stopped right in front of him, still in mid-air. "Where is my wife, Nicholas?"

When the younger of the two brothers hesitated to answer, Bálor mockingly tsked-tsked at him. Then he promptly rammed his clawed hand into Nick's torso and sliced downward as blood spurted from the man's body. Before Nick was even dead, Bálor twisted his head off with no effort at all, and tossed it to Matt.

"If ya don't want d'a same fate as y'r brot'er, ya'd better start talkin', lad. _Now_."

Horrified, Matt immediately dropped his younger brother's head to the floor. He choked and gasped and struggled to speak between the frame-shuddering gags and coughs that overcame him. He finally managed:

"I'll take you to her."

}i{}i{}i{}i{

You slowly awoke to hands shaking your body and dim lighting. Cold, hard stone dug into your already sore joints and bones as you became more aware of your surroundings.

"Y/N? Y/N, please wake up!"

The small female voice was thick with tears. She was young if your hearing was not tricking you.

 _How does she know my name_?

The girl continued to shake you, and finally, you managed to open your eyes more fully. Your vision was blurred slightly at first. All you could make out was a stone-walled room lit by very few torches. It looked almost medieval.

 _A dungeon_ , you wondered, as you shakily sat up. You winced as your thin frame protested the movement. Everything seemed to hurt. _Where's Bálor_? Then your gaze fell on the little girl who was now grasping and tugging at your hand. She looked familiar... And then the recollection of where you'd seen her hit you.

 _The little homeless girl_! Your forehead creased with confusion. "Ana?"

She nodded as a tear spilled from her eye.

"What are you doing here, sweetheart," you asked, dreading the answer.

"That man... Kenny," she said softly. "He brought me here. He called me "insurance"."

You noticed even in the faintly lit room that the girl's pupils were huge.

 _She's in shock. But why_? _What did that psycho do to her_? Swallowing hard at the knot in your throat, you squeezed her small hand in yours. "Honey, where are your mother and grandmother?"

She choked on a sob and struggled to answer. "He... He killed them—yesterday. He was the taxi driver that was supposed to take us to the shelter. He was disguised." The little girl was prattling on, most likely due to nerves and fear. "He took us to some abandoned place—a warehouse. He made me watch him kill them."

"No," you gasped. Your eyes burned with the sting of tears, and your heart instantly broke for Ana. That she was put through such horror, and that it was partly your fault. "Ana, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry. I wish..." You became silent, knowing that no amount of wishes would bring back the girl's mother and grandmother. Sobbing softly, you pulled her into your embrace and held her close to you as you stroked her hair and murmured soft words of comfort to her.

"Wonderful!"

Kenny's voice echoed throughout the dark dungeon along with a set of gleeful claps.

"I was hoping you two were getting along well!"

His tone was bright, cheerful.

 _He truly is evil and sick_ , you thought, moving gingerly to stand. You tugged Ana up as well and pushed her behind you, shielding her with your own body. _He is absolutely thrilled, and he has murdered a little girl's family before her very eyes_!

"What do you want?" You fought to keep the tremor out of your voice; to put on a brave front. "Why did you bring us here?"

He chuckled and you knew right there, you weren't going to like his answer.

"Why? You're going to be my wife and daughter, of course!"

You scoffed even as your heart-rate sped up in your trepidation. "What ever happened to killing me," you asked.

"I never said I'd kill you. I said you'd wish for death. When the Demon King finds out my real plan for you, he'll go completely insane. I'll pay Bálor back for all that he's put me through and for all that he's taken from me, by taking you away from him. I'm all about mind games, sweetheart." Kenny came closer, and gave you what you were sure he thought was a charming smile.

At that point, however, he just looked ridiculous to you. But, you knew that he was crafty, and dangerous, so you opted to not make that proclamation. Instead, you ignored his words about remarrying and berated him for what he'd done to Ana. "Ana had a mother already, Kenny. A _pregnant_ mother! And a grandmother. You killed them both—right in front of her! How could you? She's just a child!"

"And now, she's _our_ child."

You lifted your chin in defiance. "I will gladly take care of her. She has no one now, and I'm..." You swallowed hard as you faced the horrible facts once more. "I'm partly to blame for that. But I _will not_ take care of her with you as co-parent! That will be Bálor's job!"

The slap was fast. It sent you staggering to the side, and bumping into the stone wall next to you. Trying to hide your fear and pain, you simply lifted your hand to your stinging cheek and glared at Kenny. "Where is my husband? Where is Bálor? What did you do to him?"

Kenny smiled again and stepped closer to you, pinning you against the wall with his larger frame. "Oh, he'll be here to rescue you. Soon, I'm sure. _That's_ when he'll die." He smirked.

"I'll kill you first."

His hand shot to your throat and held on, not gently, but not so tight you couldn't speak either. "You won't dare try. Not if you don't want little Ana to pay the price."

"You leave her alone," you said, glancing at the frightened girl. She was still crying, and was now cowering in a dark corner. "She had nothing to do with this, until you dragged her into it."

"I don't care. She's what I need to keep you in line."

Overcome with rage, you slapped his hand away from your throat. "Why are you doing this," you shouted in his face. "You're the one who killed Bálor's sister! You're the one who started _all_ of this!"

"No, Bálor started all of this when he warned his sister away from me!" You could see you'd struck a nerve as Kenny began rehashing his own version of events. "I was in love with Alannah. But he went and told her lies about me. She became frightened of me and-"

"She had every right to be afraid of you! You're nothing more than a murderer! And the only person you're in love with is yourself!"

In a flash, a huge knife was at your throat, and the wall was once again at your back.

"No!" Ana's gasp was barely heard in the large dungeon. She spoke up a little louder. "Please! Don't hurt her!"

Kenny didn't acknowledge that the little girl had spoken. Instead, he smirked at you and pressed on the blade just a little more. "You _do not_ want this dagger to even just nick you, sweetheart."

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, but you chose not to respond to him. You could see he was just baiting you; trying to get your response. You wouldn't give that to him.

"Know why?" Kenny went on despite your attempt to ignore him. "Because its blade is poisoned. A very deadly poison. And I don't actually want to use it on _you_. So, I suggest you behave."

Your pulse sped up even more at his words. Or rather, his lack of words. "You plan to use it on Bálor. Don't you?"

"You're so smart," Kenny gushed, finally removing the knife from your throat. "Yes, this is for Bálor. The poison will kill the fire that lives inside him. That in turn will relieve him of his powers—his immortality. And then..." He playfully tapped the tip of your nose with the flat side of the blade. "I can kill him." He shook his head with a small smile, admiring the jeweled dagger. "Anyway, if the poison in this knife will do that to him... Imagine what it would do to someone who's _already_ mortal. Like you." His gaze met yours once more, and he elaborated. "If it can quench Bálor's fire... It would freeze a mortal from the inside out—literally turn them to ice."

You shook your head. "There's no way your plan will work. Bálor is better than you. In all ways. He'll kill you before-"

"I guess it's a good thing I keep good help with me, then, isn't it," he interrupted you.

He looked over his shoulder as two men made themselves known behind him. One appeared to be a tall, muscled Pacific Islander with long, curly black hair. He was quite handsome actually, had he not been a colleague of Kenny's. The other man was a little shorter but well muscled. You could not tell whether he was handsome or not, seeing as his face was obscured by a grotesque bird-like mask.

"Y/N, I'd like you to meet Tama and Marty. They'll be-"

The dungeon began rumbling around all of you. You glanced around the dark room, trying to find the source of the noise. Somehow, you just knew...

 _Bálor_ , you thought. Your heart pounded in your chest; both in fear and hope.

"Go guard the girl," Kenny ordered Tama and Marty, and then grabbed you from behind in the same instant as one of the walls imploded. Two decapitated and mutilated bodies flew through the air, and landed at yours and Kenny's feet—judging from the riddled clothing, it was Nick and Matt. The dagger was at your neck again as three men emerged from the rubble. Two of them were bald, and sported mustaches and beards. One of the two bald ones was absolutely huge; well over six and a half feet tall.

And then you noticed the man standing between them—who gave off vibes of being the leader. Only, he didn't appear to be a man. Not entirely, anyway. The skin of his insanely muscular torso was covered in swirling marks of different shades of reds, blacks, and white. You blinked hard as you noticed the colors subtly moving and whirling around each other. The... _being's_ face was marked in mostly black, and though his eyes were flashing crimson, you caught sight for an instant of sapphire blue as his gaze met yours. Your breath froze in your throat as you finally realized who he was.

"Bálor?"

The soft cry tumbled past your lips as you took in the sight that was your husband.

_He's beautiful._

"'Tis gonna be all right, love," he told you. "Don't be afraid."

You fought the urge to weep. One hard sob could cause the blade to nick you. Especially since Kenny chose that moment to yank on your hair and expose the skin of your neck even more to the dagger. Instead, you chose to ignore your fear, and to make a plea for the truly innocent life that'd been so ruthlessly dragged into this mess. "Please... Bálor, save Ana—the little girl from yesterday. Don't let them hurt her. He's already killed her family—made her watch."

Bálor's eyes stopped flashing from blue to red. They simply went red and stayed that way. "Li'l girl? Where is she?"

You motioned with your eyes and he followed your direction till he saw Ana cowering in the corner with Tama and Marty standing guard over her. You watched as he muttered something to the two men he was with, and the next thing you knew, a battle was raging between the four men.

"You're a filt'y, rotten _coimeartach_ , Omega," Bálor growled. "Usin' my wife t' lure me here. Usin' a child an' terrorizin' her in order t' make my wife toe d'a line. You will die t'night. Make no mistake 'bout d'at."

Suddenly, you were released and tossed to the floor. "Well, let's get this party started then!" Kenny's ecstatic voice rang out. You watched in horror as Bálor and Kenny lunged at each other. Kenny was quick to slash out with the poisoned dagger, but Bálor easily evaded the attacks. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep from crying out in your fear. Any distraction at all could cost Bálor his immortality.

You couldn't let that happen.

Glancing over to both Bálor's and Kenny's colleagues, you discovered that Ana was now safe with Bálor's men, while Tama and Marty lay on the stone floor, unconscious or dead, you weren't sure which.

"Get her out of here," you called to Bálor's men. "Get her somewhere safe!"

The two bald men turned to you and one of them spoke urgently. "We have orders to take you back with us as well, your highness."

Simultaneously touched and exasperated by their chivalry, you decided to throw your new, royal weight around a little. You lifted your chin and spoke with authority. "What are your names?" You glanced quickly back at Bálor and Kenny. Your husband was more than holding his own as he threw a hard right hook into Kenny's temple.

"I'm Karl, this is Luke, your highness."

You hesitantly turned your attention back to Bálor's guards. You felt badly for putting them in such a difficult position, but you had no intentions of leaving Bálor behind. "Karl? Luke? I'm your queen. And I have orders for you as well. I order you to take Ana out of here, and to Bálor's home. I am not leaving my king."

"Your highness, we can't do that. The king's wrath would-"

"As frightening as Bálor's wrath is," you cut Karl off. "There is a very old saying: 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'. Do you really want to feel the extent of my fury?"

"Damn it. She's going to be trouble. I just know it," Luke finally spoke, though softly, under his breath.

"If you make me leave with you, yes," you replied, feeling victory just within your grasp. "You have no idea how much trouble."

Ana looked up at you, tears in her eyes. "Please, come with us, Y/N. _Please_! I don't want you to get hurt!"

You pulled her to you in a fierce hug. "I'll be fine, Ana. I can't leave my husband behind. I love him too much." You placed a kiss to the top of her head. "You go with Karl and Luke. They'll keep you safe." You looked up at them sternly. "Or they'll answer to me."

In the next instant, the three disappeared into thin air and you turned back to the fight. Bálor had Kenny backed into a wall and was inching the dagger closer and closer to his throat. For an instant, you felt reassured.

For an instant.

And then, with a sudden burst of strength, Kenny launched both he and Bálor to the floor. Kenny was now on top of your husband and preparing to stab him in the heart.

"No," you uttered under your breath, running toward the grunting and struggling men. Within mere seconds, you'd reached them and you crouched down behind Kenny, wrapping one of your arms across his shoulders in an attempt to hold him in place. Then you grabbed what you could of the dagger's handle and began turning the blade toward Kenny's chest.

"Y/N... Get out... of here..." Bálor growled out, straining to hold Kenny's wrist back to avoid a stab wound.

You ignored him and continued to turn the blade on Kenny, bit by bit.

_He has no idea what this dagger would do to him. I have to kill Kenny with it. It's the only option!_

Finally, you had the blade touching Kenny's flesh. Just a little more pressure and he'd be done for.

Everything after that happened in somewhat of a blur.

Over Kenny's shoulder, you saw a puzzled look cross Bálor's face.

"What are ya smilin' about, ya lunatic," he asked Kenny.

You felt all resistance leave Kenny's arm and suddenly the huge knife was stabbing into him. In fact, you could have sworn he actually _helped_ you stab himself through.

And then you felt a sharp sting at your inner thigh. You looked down and saw the blade protruding through Kenny's back.

"I'm dead at this point, no matter what," Kenny chuckled with a wet wheeze. "So I'm gonna die, and take your queen with me. She's mine, after all, demon." He fell to the hard floor, face first, driving the dagger into him to the hilt. He rolled over to his side and groaned softly, his blood-drenched fingers on the knife's handle.

You'd heard none of their exchange. You were too busy staring at the blossoming red stain on your skirt.

 _Please, just be Kenny's blood_ , you thought as you gathered the skirt's material upward to inspect your leg. But you knew. You knew before you ever looked. The blade had cut you. You were already feeling a strange coldness in your thigh—then your hip. It grew colder, and traveled to your other leg and up to your torso.

"Y/N? Love? Talk t' me."

You lifted your face to Bálor's and you felt the wetness of tears on your face. "He cut me," you whispered. Your chin trembled, and you weren't sure if it was due to crying, or if it was the cold claiming your body. "He stabbed himself so he could cut me."

"No, he was wantin' t' stab ya," Bálor corrected you. "He said as much. I can heal d'at cut in no time, love. Dinn'a worry."

He took your hand and started to lead you away as you spoke again. "N-no, Bálor... Y-you don't un-understand..."

"Why is y'r hand so cold," he interrupted you, taking your other hand as well. "Ye're absolutely freezing. He touched your cheek, and noticed that your tears had literally frozen on your face. "What did he do t' ya?!" He pulled you into his embrace, trying to warm you with his body heat.

"T-tried to... to t-tell you..." Your teeth were chattering now. You felt no heat or warmth coming from Bálor—you were veritably chilled to the bone. Your breath even created steam as you exhaled. "The d-dagger... it w-was poisoned. D-designed to quench your fire—end... end your im-immortality..." You took a shuddering breath and continued. "To a m-mortal... the b-blade... f-freeze them... in-inside out..."

"No," Bálor uttered, shaking his head in denial. "No, I won't lose ya. Not like d'at—not t' _him_. Not ever!"

He left you abruptly, and you leaned against the wall to stay upright—watched as Bálor approached Kenny. He crouched down and took Kenny's face in his hands and made sure the one-winged angel was seeing him. "I'll see to y'r hell, _personally_. And ya can believe me when I say, ye'll _never_ see my wife again. Finally, after all these ages... Ya lose, Omega." With that, he effortlessly twisted off Kenny's head and tossed it aside like a piece of garbage.

You gasped at the grotesque sight. Everything spun around you. It wasn't that you felt badly for Kenny, and it sure wasn't that you thought Bálor was wrong to end him, but it was the sight of the violence that did you in. Or was it the poison taking its toll on your body? You weren't sure. Maybe both. You weren't truly caring all that much, as the floor rushed up to meet your face. You expected pain as you hit the stoned flooring, but there was none. Of course, you didn't actually hit the floor, Bálor had made sure of that, catching you up in his arms. Your head fell against his muscled shoulder and you felt his lips brush over your forehead as you closed your eyes. And then he was walking. He stopped after a few steps.

"What happened to the queen?"

Karl's voice.

"She's been poisoned. Where were d'a two o' you? Ya were supposed t' get 'er outta here."

"She ordered us to get the girl out of here. She wouldn't come with us."

"D-don't be mad at th-them, Bálor," you mumbled; eyes still closed. "I-I th-threatened them good and p-proper."

"I'm sure ya did, lass," he spoke softly and nuzzled your temple. His attention seemed to shift then as he turned with you still cradled against him. "Which o' you is d'a alchemist who created d'a dagger?" His voice was even colder than when he spoke to Kenny for the last time and caused you to jolt slightly. "Answer me, or I'll make yer hell much worse d'an Omega's."

"It was me."

"Scurll, eh? Ye'll begin working on something to save my wife d'en. And ye'll give it y'r best effort because if ya fail... I can't begin to describe what sort of eternity ye'll have waitin' on ya." His tone changed again as he conversed with Karl and Luke. "Shackle d'em both and bring d'em along. Scurll can work in our lab. Tama... He'll be executed. Have Adam handle d'at. AJ can keep an eye on Scurll as he works on whatever will save my wife."

The next few moments seemed to go by in a blur. For a split second, you felt as though you were flying, and then you were being gently deposited on to a bed. Tons of blankets were piled on top of you next, even though they brought you no relief. You could make out the whoosh and crackle of a fire starting in a fireplace. You were able to open your eyes a slight fraction and make out the curtains of fire surrounding the four-poster bed—the room he'd brought you to the night you first met him.

"Scurll's gonna concoct something t' help ya, love," Bálor said, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you. His beautiful swirling colors were still visible all over his skin. You weakly reached up and touched some of the red.

"Pretty," you whispered.

He chuckled. "It happens when I'm angry, or extremely stressed. It probably won't go away till ye're better." He looked away from you for a moment, pain in his eyes and then shifted his gaze back to yours. "Why'd ya do it? Why'd ya stay? Why'd ya go an' get involved wit' d'a fight, love?"

"He w-wasn't f-fighting fair," you whispered. "I-I... I was afraid he'd k-kill you. Y-you didn't kn-know about the p-poison... Couldn't l-let him... I'm n-not... I'm not s-strong enough to g-go on w-without you. You w-will go on f-fine. You'll t-take an-another queen..."

" **NO!** " The shout bounced of the walls. "D'AT ISN'T HOW DIS WORKS, LOVE!" He spiraled out of control and had a full-on break down then. "YOU DON'T CHOOSE FOR ME! I'M THE DEMON KING! _NO ONE_ CHOOSES FOR ME! _I_ CHOOSE MY PATH! _I_ MAKE MY DESTINY! NOT YOU, OR ANYONE ELSE!"

"Shhh," you shushed him gently, and took his hand in your icy ones. "You'll b-be okay."

He seemed to calm down at your touch and kissed your knuckles over and over before staring into your eyes. "Not without you, I won't, honey." He stopped a moment. You could see the gears turning in his mind. "A bond," he said suddenly and met your eyes again. "Anot'er bond. I haven't bonded t' ya since Kenny erased d'a first one." He kissed your forehead. "I'll be back," he said, and then vanished into thin air, as you sank into a deep, dark slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One battle is over. But the most important battle of Bálor's life is underway—a battle that isn't his. Y/N must fight to defeat the poison's damage—the battle for the strength to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE, ROH, or NJPW. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
> 
> Story Content & Trigger Warnings: Fluff and some sexual themes

Bálor hurried down the long, dimly lit corridor with part of the castle's medical team in tow—one of the nurses and one of the doctors. "I want t' give Y/N some o' my blood around d'a clock," he told them, an urgent tone in his voice. "It's d'a only t'ing I can t'ink of right now d'at will even come close t' beatin' d'a poison's effects."

 _Especially if Scurll is unable t' come up wit' anyt'ing t' save 'er_ , he added to himself.

"Yes, your highness," the doctor replied. "We'll stay on top of her care. Don't worry."

Bálor stopped in mid stride, nearly causing the doctor and nurse to bump into his muscled back. Then he spun around, fire in his eyes. The swirls of color splashed all over his torso began darkening and shifting, and whirling in his fury. "She's my wife—m' _lifemate_. Do NOT tell me not t' worry," he growled, shifting his blackening gaze between the doctor and nurse. "If ya dare t' say d'at t' me again, I'll rip y'r heart out an' force feed it t' ya before y'r brain even registers d'at ya've died. Am I clear?"

The doctor and nurse both nodded rapidly, their eyes wide with fright.

**_"AM I CLEAR?! YES 'R NO!"_ **

"Yes, your highness," the doctor and nurse replied simultaneously. Panic was easily detectable in their eyes, though the physician managed to _somewhat_ keep his fear in check as he stammered out an apology.

They resumed their brisk walk and had neared the king's chambers when a maid approached Bálor, carrying a garment in her hands.

"Here's the nightgown you requested for the queen, King Bálor."

Bálor took the silky garment from her and thanked her, dismissing her quickly. He turned to speak to the doctor when they all heard the faint sound of a sharp cry followed by a young girl's voice screaming.

"No! Y/N, no! You can't-! HELP! SOMEBODY, _HELP_!"

"Ana! Y/N," Bálor whispered and bolted for the royal bedchamber. The doctor and nurse struggled to keep up with him.

They reached his chamber doors just as the king flung them open. They quickly discovered Ana trying to pull the queen away from the roaring fireplace. The young girl must have sneaked into the chamber to see Y/N. Her gaze shot to Bálor's and relief flooded her face.

"King Bálor! She's trying to get to the fire," she called out, struggling to hold Y/N back even as Bálor tossed the sleeping gown onto the bed, and rushed across the huge chamber toward them. "She's freezing," the little girl cried.

The king reached them in the next instant and yanked Y/N away from the searing heat of the fireplace, holding her tightly against him in the floor.

"No," Y/N sobbed breathlessly as she still reached toward the dancing flames. "I _need_ it!" Her breath fogged in thick plumes from her nose and mouth as she met his gaze. "I can't handle the cold, Bálor—it's killing me! _Please_ —I can't-!"

Bálor fought the urge to panic at the sheer desperation in her voice, the complete fright and pain in her eyes. Her cries grew louder then as he felt her skin literally grow colder beneath his touch. Her hand grasped at her chest as she still feebly struggled to get to the fireplace. "Please, Bálor..."

"Shhh, Y/N..." he shushed her gently, and shifted her hand aside, feeling the place her fingers had clutched at. It seemed to feel even colder at her heart if that was at all possible. He could feel her heartbeat slowing bit-by-bit beneath his palm.

"I th-think I'm dying," Y/N whispered shakily. Her fatigued eyes met his gaze. "I don't want t-to leave you." She winced slightly, then felt for his hand, covering it with hers and lacing her fingers through his. "Not enough time... together..."

"Ye're not leavin' me," Bálor said softly, kissing her knuckles. "I'm not losin' ya, love." He slid his hands from her chest, up past her neck to her head and began lightly massaging at her temples infusing both a warming and pain-relieving spell into her brain.

"B-Bálor? Kinda...sleepy..."

"I know, honey," he whispered. "I'm usin' some spells t' help ya t'rough d'a discomfort 'til d'is is over."

"But what if I die," she asked, trying to move his hands away. "I don't want to sleep. I want to be with you as much as I can..."

"Shhh, ye're not gonna die," he told her deepening his concentration on the spells. "And ya don't hafta sleep if ya don't want. D'a spells are just goin' t' ease any pain. D'ey might make ya a li'l drowsy, but d'ey aren't goin' t' knock ya out." He heard a soft sigh leave her throat as her limbs began to relax. " _An chuid eile, mo ghrá,"_ he mumbled, brushing his lips over her forehead. "Rest now."

As soon as her pain seemed to lessen, he gently lifted her up and deposited her onto their bed. "Get 'er IV started an' show me how t' hook d'a blood bags up to it." His order left no room for argument, and the medical team members rushed forward to treat the queen while he checked the wound on her leg. He couldn't stop the gasp that burst past his lips once he'd lifted the tattered remains of her skirt.

The lesion was high up on her inner thigh. And the edges of the cut were frozen—literally crusted over with bloodied ice.

 _So, Omega was tellin' d'a truth_ , he thought, rage making his vision go red. _She really is turnin' t' ice._

Immediately, he did just as he'd done a year prior, and bit into his forearm, creating a free-flow of blood, and let it pour into Y/N's wound. Once her IV was hooked up, Bálor was shown how to connect one of the bags of blood to the IV.

As soon as he saw his blood dripping into her IV line, he growled at the doctor and nurse. "Leave. Now."

"But, your highness," the doctor protested. "We need to be here so we can monitor her-"

"D'ere is nothin' else ya can do 'til ya have t' draw more o' my blood f'r her." He stared the doctor and nurse down then. " _Leave_. An' make sure every single bein' in d'is castle knows t' stay outta here."

Stupidly enough, the doctor and nurse still hesitated, sure they should stay with the queen.

The king's lip curled in a snarl. _**"GO!"**_

They were running for the door in the next instant.

Bálor quickly stripped Y/N of her ripped and useless clothing before he briefly disconnected some of the IV's tubing, preparing to carry her to the chamber's private bathtub.

As he lifted her into his arms, he could see the wound on her leg was healing rapidly. Now, it was just a matter of reversing the poison's effects on her.

Bálor lowered her slender frame into the huge bathtub filled with hot, bubbly water and she whimpered at the sudden warmth.

He settled her against the slanted back of the tub and began cleaning her gently from top to bottom. He wanted none of the grime from whatever Omega had put her through to taint her rest and healing.

"You don't have to," Y/N started, reaching to take the wash cloth from him.

Bálor held it out of her reach. "I _want_ t'. It's my fault d'is happened. Let me take care o' ya, sweetheart."

" _Not_ your fault," she bit out, and then quite suddenly, her head fell back against the tub as she gasped. "The water's getting cold," she whispered, her teeth chattering. Bálor reached down into the water, and sure enough, the water was growing cooler. Y/N's body was acting as an ice cube. She wrestled with the cold, fighting it for all she was worth. Water sloshed in the huge tub and Bálor had to hold onto her to keep her from going beneath the water's surface.

"Bálor..." She cried. "I'm freezing." She bit her lip, torment written across her pretty face.

The king clenched his teeth as her quiet moans of pain escalated. He didn't deal well with those he loved being in pain. "I wish I could kill him all over again," he muttered, lifting Y/N from the tub.

By the time he had her dressed in the nightgown and covered up in their huge bed, she was thrashing wildly. He had no choice but to use an immobilizing spell along with a sleeping spell so she could rest.

"Scurll better come up with something and fast," Bálor growled, as he left the chamber in search of the only man who could save his wife.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

You had no way of knowing how long you were out. All you would recall was a deep, hazy sleep and horrible nightmares that seemed to make the freezing worse. Bálor dying, Ana dying or both of them dying. It was torture. Sometimes you wanted to scream in your agony, but so deep in sleep were you, that you could only make what you imagined was a choked moan emerge from your throat.

At some point during your seemingly endless slumber, the cold finally did die down but only a little. You became aware of voices around you, warm hands holding yours, kisses being brushed over your face. You heard Bálor's voice sometimes speaking to someone in a hushed tone, sometimes rumbling softly near your ear.

For a few moments, you were able to open your eyes. With slightly blurred vision, you looked across the room and saw Bálor sitting in a large armchair, a sleepy Ana curled up in his lap. As he smiled tenderly down at the little girl, you could hear him singing softly in Irish. His song ended after a moment, and he played with a lock of Ana's golden hair. "Did ya know d'at T'anksgivin' is my favorite holiday, li'l lass?" At the shake of her head, he smiled again. "Do ya know _why_ it's m' favorite?" Again Ana's head shook and he replied in a soft whisper. "'Because t'was when I first met Y/N."

Bálor went on then to tell her about how you both met and turned your encounter into a romantic fairy-tale for the girl.

A smile spread slowly across your face, and growing sleepy again, you whispered, "An amazing father..." before fading out again.

The next time you awoke you heard hushed voices.

 _Arguing_ , you wondered sluggishly.

"If ya hurt 'er wit' d'is concoction o' yers, Scurll, I swear I'll-"

"It won't harm her," came the soft reply. "I know what you're going to do to me, Bálor. Why would I want to make my end, and my hell, worse than it'll be to begin with? You can see I'm telling the truth. Go ahead. Search my mind."

There was a long silence then, followed by: "Okay. What is the stuff? What does it do?"

"Simply put, it's an antidote to the poison. It contains the blood that I drew from you, that's the part that will aid most in healing her. But..."

There was a snarl. "'But', what, Scurll?"

The man audibly sighed. "The... _reaction_ she's having to the poison... This antidote is going to take that reaction and multiply in strength since your blood is a large component of the formula. It's going to multiply the affects of the cold many times over because the poison is going to fight to stay dominant. It won't be but it's gonna try. She's gonna be even colder and very uncomfortable. It may even bring on a light fever as the antidote takes over, since she has been freezing up to now."

"But it will save her? You're positive?"

"Yes. But make no mistake. It's going to be awful for her. I added a sedative so she'll sleep, but I'm afraid that will actually do nothing but keep her a little quiet. She's still going to feel the affects in her sleep.

"Do it. I can't lose her."

You opened your eyes just as Scurll took hold of your arm and located your vein.

"No," you whispered, tugging at your arm. "Bálor... I don't trust him..." your sleep thickened voice wavered.

"It's okay, love," Bálor told you, softly stroking his hand over your hair. "I read his mind. He's not goin' t' hurt ya." His lips brushed over your forehead and he explained further. "D'a affects o' d'a bondin' passed. My blood by itself is no longer keeping you from freezing." He gave Scurll a nod, and you felt the sharp stick of a needle as it went through your skin. The antidote entered you and immediately, you began to feel warmer all over.

A small moan of relief passed your lips and you burrowed further into the blankets. "Warm," you whispered. "Finally..."

"It's working," you heard Scurll say. "It's beginning to heal her. The warmth she's feeling will soon dissipate and the poison will begin fighting back. Then she'll feel cold again."

"Leave," Bálor said, clearly dismissing the man. Now that his job was done, Bálor was through with him. "AJ is outside the door and will take you back to your cell to await execution."

Your consciousness fell away then as you began feeling a persistent—almost angry—freeze throb and burn its way through your entire body.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Again you were being tortured. And it was even worse than the time before. You seemed to recall Scurll saying the antidote would do this—drive you insane with a much increased reaction to Bálor's blood and the poison. As you forced your eyes open, you felt as if you were in the middle of a huge earthquake—your body shook terribly.

You shifted your head slightly to the side to seek out your husband, when you discovered your wrists to be fastened to the headboard with some soft leather cuffs. "What?" Your voice shook with the combination of the cold and confusion. You glanced down sleepily at your legs and saw they were fastened the same way to the foot board.

You sobbed from the chilling torment. It was unending.

"Please," you uttered softly to no one in particular. "Oh, _please_...!"

Bálor was by your side in an instant.

"I'm s' sorry, love," he whispered, kissing your temple. "I _had_ t' restrain ya. Ya were thrashin' too much—beginnin' t' hurt y'rself."

"It won't stop," you whispered. Tears ran down your face. "So cold, Bálor..."

Bálor's forehead wrinkled slightly in concern. "It'll get better soon, _agra_. I promise." He brushed his lips over your forehead again.

"Isn't there... anything you can do," you asked, panting through a fresh surge of liquid ice coursing through your body.

He shook his head, pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry. Aside from putting you back to sleep... I'm afraid t' interfere wit' d'a antidote."

"Put me to sleep then," you begged. "Please. At least the time goes faster when I'm asleep. I can't take this while I'm awake. It's too much. Painful."

With a small nod, Bálor lightly touched your temples and began chanting softly. Within seconds, you were fading into oblivion once more.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

The next time you opened your eyes, your limbs were free. And much to your relief, the antidote's affects had worn off.

"I'm better," you smiled softly, and sat up in the bed, albeit, gingerly.

The cold had left your body—you were warm again. There was no pain. You only felt an impatient need that hadn't been there till after you'd married Bálor. And you knew exactly what that need was.

Your husband.

Standing from the bed, you made your way into the private bathroom, and upon glancing at yourself in the mirror, deducted quickly that you could use a shower before hunting up Bálor. Impatiently, you grabbed a new toothbrush from one of the lavatory's drawers and scrubbed your mouth. Then you were stripping out of your gown and stepping into the huge shower. You cleaned up and shaved in record time, eager to find Bálor and—at long last—consummate your marriage.

Wrapping the softest, most luxurious towel you'd ever felt in your life around you, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan of pleasure as the fabric brushed against your sensitized skin. While you were indeed feeling better, the desire was still there, burning you—nagging to be relieved.

 _Bálor_ , you called to him in your mind, testing the new bond between the two of you.

You stepped out of the bathroom, and into the bed chamber just as he appeared out of thin air.

" _Agra_?"

You slid your gaze over his entire frame, from his toes up to his head. Blood was spattered across him, a droplets of sweat sparkling on his muscled chest and shoulders. The red, black, and white markings had apparently stayed with him, just as he said they would, because they were swirling furiously over his entire torso. His face was mostly black still, and made his blue eyes stand out even more than usual. His head piece—his crown was atop his head; tendrils and strands falling past his shoulders. As you gazed at him, you wondered how long you'd slept—his beard seemed much thicker.

"Ye're up," he asked cautiously, stepping closer to you. "Are ya alright, love?"

You too, moved closer to him and nodded. "I feel very... _good_ , actually. A little _too_ good."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes and he took a small step back. "Sweetheart, we can't. Ye've not had near enough rest-"

You closed the space between you and reached up, grasping at the back of his neck with your hand, while laying the other on his chest. To your surprise, you could feel the swirls of color shifting beneath your fingertips. Gasping lightly at the sensation, you raised your face to his and smiled softly. "I feel completely rested, my king. I'm ready to give myself to you. I've been ready for a long time."

"I can't-"

Desperate and at the end of your rope, you let the towel slip from your body, to puddle in the floor at your feet. Your need was growing just by looking at him. You could not be refused. Your body could take no denial.

"Well, I thought we could do this _together_ , but I guess I'll just have to get into bed and take care of myself. You're welcome to watch, _your highness_."

As you turned toward the bed, there was a low growl, and a flurry of movement from your peripheral vision. Then you were suddenly crushed up against a hot, sweaty chest. Lips crashed into yours while words were mumbled into your mouth and a bearded chin scratched lightly against your face.

"Never let it be said d'at my wife has t' resort t' her own met'ods. I'm y'r king—y'r husband. I'll take care o' any need ya have, kitten."

He pulled you closer, kissing you again and you could feel the ribbons of whirling colors on his chest brushing against your chest. Flames appeared from his body and enveloped you. It was warm, but not hot. It felt much like the warmth from the bonding as the flames danced around you and brushed over your skin. You gasped softly at the sensation and fused yourself closer to him, wrapping one arm around his neck and placing your other hand at his back.

"I should shower," he said, placing another soft kiss on your mouth. "I was busy wit' Kenny's soul in d'a torture chamber. Let me go clean off d'a blood..."

Your fingers curled against his skin, halting his words. "I want you as you are right now," you whispered. The sight of his carved-from-stone body glistening with a sheen of sweat and blood had you unbelievably turned on. "Please, Bálor. Haven't we waited long enough?" You watched hopefully as his gaze shifted slowly from your eyes down to your lips. He gave a small nod.

"I t'ink Kenny has kept us apart long enough, love."

He pulled you closer and leaned down, ghosting his lips over the skin of your neck, intentionally rasping his beard over your flesh.

A giggle burst from your throat in the next instant as Bálor tossed you over his shoulder and carried you to the huge bed.

"I'm gonna make love to ya now, and then in your dreams too," he told you, planting a kiss to the side of your neck.

You sighed happily and nuzzled into his chest. "Can you get me pregnant in my dreams?"

His head pulled back a ways to look at you. "Ya sure, love? D'is soon?"

"I'd love to have your baby," you whispered. "If you want one this soon, that is."

"Not'ing would make me happier, honey. I'll gladly make ya a _máthair._ You'll be an amazing one."

"And you'll be an amazing father," you smiled dreamily. "I saw you with Ana. I'd woken up for a minute and you were singing to her. Then you started telling her the story of how we met. It was beautiful to watch you with her."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say your husband was blushing.

"She really cares a lot about ya," Bálor said softly, stroking some hair away from your face. "She wanted t' see ya so badly, but as ya know, ya weren't in much of a condition fer a child t' witness. She'll be t'rilled t' know ye're well."

"We'll have to be her parents now," you told him. "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm perfect wit' it. She's a an amazing li'l girl."

"I love you. So much."

"And I love you, _mo banríon luachmhar_."

His lips brushed over your forehead and then shifted his body over you slender frame.

You sighed happily, moving into his arms. You didn't see how life could get any better.

But nine months later, it did.

_**The End** _


End file.
